tihvavy  of  tht  tA\to\o^\ca\  ^mimvy 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 
PRESENTED  BY 

Delavan  Pierson 

BX  7260    .S3  A4  1919 
Schauf f ler ,  Adolphus 

Frederick,  1845-1919. 
Memories  of  a  happy  boyhood 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2014 


https://archive.org/details/memoriesofhappybOOscha 


MEMORIES 

OF  A 

HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


The  Author 


MEMORIES 


OF  A 

HAPPY  BOYHOOD 

^^Long  Ago,  and  Far  Away*' 


ADOLPH  FREDERICK  SCHAUFFLER 


"yl  Happy  Childhood  is  a  Heritage  from  God  " 


New  York  Chicago 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

London       and  Edinburgh 


Copyright,  1919,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York  :  1 58  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  17  North  Wabash  Ave. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh  :    75    Princes  Street 


TO 

Wife 


FOREWORD 


NOT  infrequently  as  I  have  told  my  wife 
of  various  experiences  of  my  life  in 
Constantinople,  she  lias  said  that  I 
ought  to  put  them  down,  and  have  them 
printed,  for  the  sake  of  my  various  nephews 
and  nieces  and  grand-nephews  and  nieces.  I 
have  always  postponed  such  action,  thinking 
it  hardly  worth  the  while,  hut  at  last  it  has 
seemed  to  me  that  the  younger  generation 
might  be  interested  in  such  memories  of  my 
early  years  as  I  could  recall.  This  will  ac- 
count for  this  little  volume  printed  for  private 
circulation. 

My  father  was  born  in  Stuttgart  on  August 
22nd,  1798.  His  father,  Philip  Frederick 
Schauffler,  was  a  master  Turner.  Those  were 
the  years  when  Xapoleon  was  beginning  his 
wonderful  career.  In  1804,  my  grandfather 
headed  a  large  company  of  Wui'tembergians, 
whom  the  Czar  Alexander  of  Eussia  invited 
to  take  up  their  abode  in  his  dominions.  He 
offered  to  German  farmers  and  to  German 
master  mechanics  very  advantageous  terms. 
7 


rOEEWORD 


In  response  to  this,  my  grandfather  led  a 
group  of  three  hundred  and  eighty-nine  Ger- 
mans over  into  Russia.  Those  were  not  the 
days  of  railroads,  much  less  of  motor  cars,  or 
of  lorries.  Things  were  done  deliberately.  It 
took  this  particular  hand  of  Germans  nine 
months  to  cover  the  road  between  Stuttgart  and 
Odessa.  My  grandfather  located  in  Odessa,  and 
from  then  on  for  twenty-two  years  Odessa  was 
the  home  of  my  father,  the  story  of  whose 
many  experiences  during  his  earlier  years  you 
will  find  in  his  autobiography. 

Leaving  there  in  1826,  my  father  arrived  in 
Boston  in  i^ovember  of  that  same  year,  and 
soon  found  his  way  to  Andover,  Massachusetts. 
There  he  remained  studying  with  prodigious 
intensity  for  five  years.  After  that  he  returned 
to  Turkey,  where  he  met  my  mother,  who  had 
gone  out  as  a  single  lady  missionary,  and  there 
they  were  married.  She  was  Mary  Reynolds 
of  Longmeadow,  Massachusetts,  of  direct  Puri- 
tan ancestry.  She  was  born  on  April  13th, 
1802.  Thus  my  parentage  on  one  side  is  pure 
German,  on  the  other  side  pure  American,  while 
I  was  born  and  brought  up  in  the  Ottoman 
Empire  until  I  left  for  college. 

All  this  will  explain  somewhat  my  profound 
interest  in  all  politics  that  deal  with  the  near 
8 


r<DKEWOED 


East  and  by  near  East  I  mean  the  Balkan 
peninsula,  and  Egypt,  and  all  that  lies  between 
those  two  countries  and  India. 

A.  F.  S. 

November,  1918. 


9 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


TACING  PAGE 

The  Author  Title 

Our  Home  in  Bebek  i6 

The  Yacht  Alberta  in  Bebek  Bay  .     .     .  .44 

The  Schauffler  Family  46 

The  Castle  of  RoumeU  Hissar  66 


11 


Memories  of  a  Happy  Boyhood 


My  Starting  Point 

I WAS  born  in  Pera,  one  of  the  European 
suburbs  of  Constantinople,  on  !N'ovember 
the  7th,  1845.    My  parents  were  mission- 
aries of  the  American  Board. 

Shortly  after  I  saw  the  light  of  this  world 
and  while  we  were  spending  the  summer  at 
Bebek,  a  village  six  miles  north  of  Constanti- 
nople, on  the  Bosporus,  one  of  those  fearful 
fires  which  plagued  Constantinople  broke  out 
near  our  house  in  Pera.  At  that  time  all  the 
streets  in  the  city  were  very  narrow.  ^Tearly 
all  the  houses  were  built  of  wood.  At  the  same 
time  the  fire  department  was  absolutely  ridicu- 
lous, the  only  fire  engines  being  worked  by 
hand. 

The  origin  of  this  particular  fire  was  in  the 
house  of  a  Greek,  who  had  in  his  little  sitting 
room  a  picture  of  the  Virgin,  before  which  an 
oil  lamp  was  constantly  burning.  As  a  result 
the  wall  space  around  the  Virgin's  picture  was 
covered  with  soot.  A  spark  from  the  wick  of 
13 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


the  oil  lamp  lodged  on  that  soot  and  began  to 
spread.  Eising  from  his  seat,  the  Greek  said, 
"I  will  spit  you  out."  This  expedient,  how- 
ever, proved  vain.  He  then  went  out  into  the 
yard  to  get  a  pail  of  water  from  the  well,  hut 
the  door  with  a  spring  latch  slammed  to,  and 
before  he  could  get  back  the  fire  had  so  spread 
that  the  pail  of  water  was  not  sufficient.  About 
one  thousand  five  hundred  houses  went  down, 
before  the  fire  ceased,  and  among  them  our 
house,  with  pretty  much  all  there  was  in  it, 
except  a  few  books  from  my  father's  library, 
which  some  kind  neighbors  near  by  succeeded 
in  saving. 

Of  course  we  knew  nothing  of  all  this  until 
we  heard  of  the  devastation  caused  by  this  dis- 
astrous fire.  As  a  result  of  this  misfortune, 
our  home  was  permanently  located  in  Bebek, 
where  I  was  brought  up  and  lived,  until  I  came 
to  the  United  States  to  go  to  college.  As  there 
were  no  English  schools  for  boys  in  Constan- 
tinople at  that  time,  I  was  early  sent  to  a  Ger- 
man school,  taught  by  a  capital  German  school- 
master, of  whom  I  cherish  the  kindliest  memor- 
ies. At  that  lime  I  could  talk  German  better 
than  English  and  had  to  help  myself  out  in  my 
mother  tongue  with  German  words. 

My  early  recollections  of  household  life  are 
14 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


largely  those  of  severe  economy.  I  remember 
hearing  father  say  to  mother,  ^'Mother,  no 
sugar."  Then  for  some  weeks,  until  the  balance 
of  the  budget  had  been  re-established,  our  days 
were  sugarless.  At  other  times  he  would  say, 
"Mother,  no  butter."  Then  followed  butterless 
days.  We  boys  took  these  things  for  granted 
and  made  no  fuss  about  them  at  all.  To  save 
our  carpets  they  were  always  taken  up  in  the 
summer,  and  we  walked  on  bare  floors. 

At  the  same  time,  we  noticed  that  there  was 
never  any  economy  exercised  along  educational 
lines.  We  always  had  the  advantage  of  the  best 
school  and  the  best  music  and  drawing  masters 
that  the  city  could  afford.  The  impression  thus 
made  on  us  was  that  while  in  matters  physical, 
rigid  economy  was  often  called  for,  in  matters 
intellectual  it  cut  no  figure.  The  result  of  this 
in  the  education  of  us  four  boys  (we  had  no 
sisters)  can  easily  be  understood. 

As  I  was  the  youngest  of  the  four,  the 
economy  practiced  in  the  matter  of  clothes  was 
somewhat  of  a  trial  to  me.  The  trousers  of 
my  brothers  as  they  outgrew  them  used  to 
descend  in  due  time  to  the  youngest.  Thus  for 
many  years,  I  never  wore  a  pair  of  trousers 
without  a  couple  of  patches  on  them.  This  to 
me  was  somewhat  humiliating,  and  resulted  in 
15 


MEMORIES  OE  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


imwillinguess  to  take  off  mj  coat  in  the  presence 
of  other  boys,  lest  my  patches  should  be  called 
to  their  attention.  I  well  remember  the  first 
pair  of  trousers  I  ever  wore  that  were  patchless, 
and  my  legitimate  pride  in  this  experience. 

In  our  house  obedience  was  one  of  the  first 
rules  that  was  enforced.  There  was  never  any 
arguing  on  the  part  of  us  children  to  secure  a 
change  of  the  parental  verdict.  We  were 
taught  to  understand  that  "Yes''  meant  "Yes," 
and  "Xo''  meant  "Xo,''  and  that  was  the  end 
of  it.  That  this  conduced  to  our  happiness  I 
thoroughly  believe. 

Among  my  earliest  recollections  is  that  of  a 
bitter  lesson  that  I  learned  on  account  of  my 
youthful  folly.  Going  to  town  one  day  with 
my  father,  I  saw  a  pink  rubber  balloon  in  a 
shop  window.  My  heart  went  out  toward  that 
novelty,  and  I  told  my  father  that  I  wanted  to 
buy  it.  Going  into  the  shop  he  found  that  the 
price  was  one  dollar,  and  said  to  me,  "My  dear 
boy,  it's  not  worth  the  money."  To  this  I 
replied,  "Father,  I  have  a  dollar  (which  I  had 
saved),  and  I  want  that  balloon."  "Get  your 
balloon,"  he  said,  "though  I  don't  think  it's 
wise."  I  bought  the  balloon  and  went  home  with 
it  full  of  joy  and  pride.  The  rest  of  that  day  I 
lorded  it  over  my  brothers,  for  I  had  a  balloon 
16 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


and  they  hadn't.    On  going  to  bed  that  night, 
I  let  the  balloon  up  to  the  ceiling.    The  next 
morning  I  arose  unusually  early  to  play  with 
my  balloon.    Instead  of  being  up  at  the  ceiling, 
however,  it  had  collapsed  and  was  under  the 
table.    Then  my  brothers  laughed  at  me,  an(}  / 
then,  I  regret  to  say,  I  hated  them.    I  had  j 
lost  my  balloon  and  had  lost  my  dollar,  and  • 
was  inconsolable.   The  memory  of  this  perform-  ) 
ance,  however,  was  of  much  value  to  me  in  ' 
after  years.    I  had  learned  my  lesson. 

At  another  time  when  I  must  have  been 
about  twelve  years  old,  I  had  earned  two  hun- 
dred piastres,  or  about  eight  dollars,  by  copying 
reports  for  missionary  friends.  I  went  to  town 
and  drew  this  money  and  started  home  feeling 
like  a  Croesus,  for  I  had  never  owned  so  much 
money  in  my  life,  and  this  had  been  money 
honestly  earned  by  hard  toil.  I  went  on  board 
the  steamer  to  take  me  up  to  our  village  on  the 
Bosporus,  and  unfortunately  went  to  sleep. 
When  I  waked,  my  money  was  gone,  and  I 
was  in  despair.  My  father  permitted  me  to 
stand  the  loss  for  about  two  weeks,  and  then 
he  said,  "I^ow  you  have  learned  your  lesson, 
here's  your  two  hundred  piastres.''  This  ex- 
perience wrought  well  for  me,  and  I  am  per- 
suaded that  my  father  was  right  when  for  two 
17 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


weeks  lie  allowed  me  to  go  without  my  money, 
so  as  to  bum  into  my  boyish,  mind  the  necessity 
of  caution. 

Early  Altrnism 

During  these  earlier  years  of  my  life,  be- 
fore I  entered  the  teens,  the  ximerican  Board 
started  a  subscription  among  children  inter- 
ested in  their  work,  for  the  building  and  equip- 
ment of  a  missionary  schooner  to  be  called 
^'The  Morning  Star.''  Shares  in  this  schooner 
were  to  be  ten  cents.  ISTews  of  this  reached 
us  in  Constantinople  and  at  once  my  boyish 
heart  was  set  on  owning  a  share.  I  had  no 
money,  however,  and  my  mother  suggested  that 
I  get  to  work  to  earn  some.  She  said  that  if 
I  would  get  up  before  breakfast  every  day, 
and  dust  the  dining  room  and  the  sitting  room, 
she  would  give  me  a  cent  a  day.  Like  all 
other  boys,  I  hated  to  get  up  in  the  morning, 
but  a  new  incentive  had  been  added  to  my  life 
and  for  ten  days  the  two  rooms  mentioned  were 
carefully  dusted,  and  I  got  my  ten  cents.  This 
t  experience  was  so  pleasant  that  I  worked 
another  ten  days  and  in  this  way  I  became  the 
owner  of  two  shares  in  'The  Morning  Star." 
'No  railroad  shares  that  I  have  ever  owned 
since,  have  seemed  to  me  as  precious  as  those 
18 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


two  ten-cent  shares,  and  the  fact  that  I  had 
earned  the  money  by  self-denying  work  was  no 
small  source  of  gratification.  How  much  better 
it  was  for  my  mother  to  have  me  earn  the 
money  than  to  give  it  to  me  outright. 

The  earliest  missionary  work  that  I  ever  did 
was  in  connection  with  the  Crimean  War.  At 
one  time  during  that  War,  we  had  a  French 
camp  on  the  hills  just  behind  Bebek,  contain- 
ing about  ten  thousand  soldiers  awaiting  their 
embarkation  for  the  Crimea.  My  elder 
brothers  used  to  carry  ^^'ew  Testaments  up  to 
the  French  soldiers.  In  this  work  I  joined 
them,  though  I  was  still  too  young  to  act  in 
any  other  way  than  as  porter,  and  lug  up  a 
hand-bag  full  of  Testaments  to  the  hill  behind 
us.  This  involved  a  climb  of  about  four  hun- 
dred feet  and  a  walk  of  two  miles.  This  we 
did  times  out  of  mind.  We  never  got  more 
than  about  two  hundred  yards  into  the  camp, 
before  we  were  surrounded  by  French  soldiers 
anxious  to  get  copies  of  the  Xew  Testament. 
^^Tien  our  supply  was  exhausted,  w^e  used  to 
take  down  the  names  of  those  soldiers  who  de- 
sired to  have  copies.  At  our  next  visit  these 
soldiers  of  course  were  the  first  to  be  served. 
At  that  time  (I  was  less  than  ten  years  old) 
I  could  not  talk  French  so  that  my  brothers 
19 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


had  to  do  the  talking  and  I  simply  acted  as 
burden-bearer. 

In  view  of  much  of  the  modern  psychology, 
which  teaches  that  children  do  not  develop 
altruistic  motives  until  about  the  time  of  adoles- 
cense,  my  experience  is  somewhat  significant, 
for  here  I  was,  far  from  adolescent,  and  yet 
willing  day  after  day  to  lug  up  this  load  of 
Testaments  to  the  French  soldiers,  and  here  I 
was  willing  to  work  hard  to  own  shares  in 
^'The  Morning  Star."  This  leads  me  to  think 
that  a  good  deal  of  the  modern  paidology  is 
more  fantastic  than  it  is  in  accordance  with 
fact.  During  many  years  of  experience  with 
children  in  a  very  large  Sunday  School  in  ^^^ew 
York  City,  I  have  found  that  altruism  among 
children  below  the  adolescent  period  can  very 
easily  be  cultivated,  and  that  many  of  them  are 
more  truly  altruistic  than  they  are  apt  to  be 
after  they  reach  the  age  of  adolescence. 

The  Crimean  War 

In  1853,  the  Crimean  War  broke  out. 
Though  I  was  only  eight  years  old,  I  took  a 
keen  interest  in  all  that  went  on.  English, 
French,  Sardinian,  and  Turkish  troops  swarmed 
in  Constantinople,  and  ships  of  the  English, 
French  and  Turkish  navies  were  constantly 
20 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


passing  up  and  clo^vii  the  Bosporus  in  plain  view 
from  our  house.  We  boys  soon  learned  the 
names  of  these  ships.  Of  course  most  of  them 
were  sailing  ships,  only  a  very  few  being  steam- 
ers. Full  well  do  I  remember,  when  the  Crimean 
War  came  to  its  close,  the  friendly  race  that 
the  English,  French  and  Turkish  navies  made 
across  the  Black  Sea  from  Eupatoria  to  Con- 
stantinople. It  was  a  grand  sight  to  see  them 
going  down  the  Bosporus.  There  were  single- 
deck  frigates,  double  deckers  and  three  deckers. 
The  ship  that  won  the  race  was  the  MaJimou- 
diek,  the  Turkish  Admiral's  three  decker. 
This  filled  us  boys  with  pride  because  the 
builder  of  the  winning  ship  was  an  American, 
by  the  name  of  Rhodes,  and  as  we  boys  were 
thoroughly  American,  we  gloated  over  that  fact. 

Of  course  we  were  quite  cognizant  of  the 
abominable  condition  of  the  British  Commis- 
sariat Department,  during  the  first  year  of  the 
Crimean  War.  It  was  truly  atrocious.  Official 
red  tape  and  blundering  abounded  on  every 
hand. 

I  remember  an  English  captain  coming  to 
our  house  that  first  winter,  full  of  rage.  At 
that  time  the  Queen's  soldiers  were  fighting 
in  the  trenches  in  front  of  Sebastopol  in  their 
stocking  feet.  This  Captain  had  come  out  with 
21 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


a  cargo  of  shoes,  and  had  sailed  to  Eupatoria 
to  deliver  his  goods.  When  he  reported  there 
to  the  powers  that  be,  thev  asked  him  if  he  had 
orders  to  land  the  boots.  To  this  he  replied, 
''No."  The  answer  was,  "Then  go  back  to 
Constantinople  and  get  your  orders.''  There 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  sail  back  three  hun- 
dred miles  across  the  Black  Sea  to  Constanti- 
nople, get  his  orders  and  return  to  the  Crimea. 
To  say  that  he  was  swearing  mad  is  to  put  it 
mildly. 

Another  Captain  came  to  our  house  who  had 
been  sent  out  with  a  shipload  of  plum  puddings 
for  the  Queen's  soldiers  at  Christmas  time. 
When  he  got  to  Eupatoria  the  same  question 
was  asked  of  him,  as  to  his  orders.  As  he  had 
no  orders  to  land  he  was  ordered  back  to  Con- 
stantinople. This  order  he  refused  to  obey, 
and  using  his  own  crew  he  landed  all  the  plum 
puddings  on  the  dock.  But  John  Bull  had  no 
orders  to  lay  hands  on  his  own  plum  puddings. 
The  French,  however,  smelled  them  out,  and 
promptly  proceeded  to  open  the  boxes,  and  then 
invited  John  Bull  to  partake  of  his  own  plum 
pudding  in  French  tents. 

As  further  illustrating  this  shiftlessness  dur- 
ing that  first  year  on  the  part  of  the  English 
officialdom,  I  may  say  that  the  British  wounded 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


sent  back  from  the  Crimea  to  Constantinople, 
were  all  cared  for  in  the  great  hospital  at 
Scutari,  on  the  Asiatic  side  of  the  Bosporus. 
There  were  not  beds  enough  for  the  poor  men 
and  so  scores  of  them  were  laid  flat  on  the 
floor.  First  aid  to  the  injured  was  non-ex- 
istent in  those  days,  so  they  came  down  in  the 
clothes  in  which  they  had  been  wounded,  and 
of  course  were  in  shocking  condition.  The  rats 
in  this  hospital  were  legion  and  used  to  attack 
these  poor  delirious  soldiers  at  night,  biting 
them  and  sucking  their  blood.  It  was  an  awful 
state  of  affairs.  To  no  masculine  mind  did  it 
ever  occur  to  get  a  good  Scotch  terrier.  As 
soon,  however,  as  Florence  Nightingale  arrived 
and  knew  of  this,  she  secured  a  terrier  whom 
we  called  Crimean  Bess.  The  first  night  that 
the  terrier  arrived,  she  was  shoved  down  into 
the  cellar  and  the  door  was  shut.  The  next 
morning  they  went  do^vn  to  see  whether  Bess 
was  alive  or  dead.  They  found  her  "faint  yet 
pursuing''  although  much  bitten  up.  In  the 
center  of  the  cellar  they  saw  a  pile  of  rats,  all 
killed  by  faithful  Bess.  They  counted  the  rats 
and  there  were  just  seventy  of  them.  In  this 
way  Florence  J^^'ightingale,  with  the  co-opera- 
tion of  this  clever  dog,  cleared  the  hospital  of 
rats,  to  the  infinite  joy  of  the  poor  Tommies. 
23 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


I  had  a  pup  of  this  Crimean  Bess  whom  I 
cherished  and  who  was  of  very  great  vahie  to 
us  as  a  watch  dog.  At  last  old  age  was  too 
much  for  my  Tray  and  he  went  the  way  of  all 
dogs,  leaving  me  with  my  boy's  heart  sorely 
wounded. 

Wliile  writing  these  memories  I  have  read 
the  book  called  ^'The  Xew  Revelation,"  by  Sir 
Arthur  Conan  Doyle,  in  which  he  sets  forth 
his  acceptance  of  much  of  the  modern  spiritual- 
istic creed.  Among  other  proofs  of  the  truth 
of  communications  from  departed  friends  in  the 
other  world,  he  cites  the  following  calling  it 
^^critic-proof.*'  The  case  refers  to  a  man  who 
takes  the  name  of  Captain  James  Burton.  This 
man's  father  had  died.  A  year  after  his  death 
Captain  Burton  claims  that  he  received  a  com- 
munication from  his  father  which  he  describes 
as  follows: 

''Unknown  to  me,  my  mother  who  was  stay- 
ing some  sixty  miles  away  lost  her  pet  dog 
which  my  father  had  given  her.  The  same 
night  I  had  a  letter  from  him  condoling  with 
her  and  stating  that  the  dog  was  now  with  him, 
and  saying  all  things  which  love  us  and  are 
necessary  to  our  happiness  in  the  world  are 
with  us  here." 

Xow  I  loved  my  dog  Tray  who  was  very 
24 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


faithful,  but  if  he  were  to  be  with  me  in  the 
next  world  there  would  be  trouble  for  the 
dog  spoken  of  in  this  communication,  for  my 
dog  Tray  fought  every  dog  in  Constantinople 
he  ever  saw,  big  or  little,  and  if  he  came  across 
the  dog  spoken  of  above,  I  am  quite  confident 
that  he  would  attack  instantly.  I  would  like  to 
know  for  my  own  edification  what  Sir  Arthur 
Conan  Doyle's  opinion  would  be  as  to  what 
would  happen  if  these  two  canine  creatures  met 
on  the  other  side  of  the  line. 

After  the  first  year  of  the  Crimean  War, 
the  defects  in  the  British  Commissariat  De- 
partment were  fully  remedied,  so  that  by  the 
end  of  the  War  the  English  army  was  really 
in  better  shape  than  was  that  of  France. 

At  some  time  during  this  war  the  United 
States  frigate  ''Cumberland"  came  into  port. 
Of  course  we  Americans  all  paid  her  a  visit. 
While  we  were  on  board,  the  British  dispatch 
boat  "Caradoc,"  a  side-wheeler,  arrived,  hav- 
ing made  a  record  trip  from  Malta.  At  once 
the  ''Cumberland"  saluted  her.  The  guns  of 
the  "Cumberland"  were  of  much  heavier  cali- 
ber than  those  of  any  warship  that  had  visited 
Constantinople.  I  never  shall  forget  the  pride 
with  which  we  boys  listened  to  the  overwhelm- 
ing racket  made  by  her  cannon.  The  im- 
25 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


pression  on  all  in  Constantinople  made  by  this 
salute  was  most  favorable  to  the  armament  of 
our  American  single-deck  frigate.  This  ^'Cum- 
berland"  is  the  same  frigate  as  that  which  in 
1862  went  to  the  bottom,  being  sent  there  by 
the  ''Merrimac"  during  our  Civil  War,  before 
our  little  ''Monitor"  came  into  action. 

While  I  am  on  the  question  of  the  Crimean 
W^ar,  I  might  say  that  I  remember  well  an  Irish- 
man by  the  name  of  O'Flacherty,  who  later  on  be- 
came a  missionary  and  lived  in  Constantinople. 
He  had  been  a  private  in  the  British  Army, 
and  we  boys  delighted  to  listen  to  his  stories 
of  his  Crimean  experiences.  One  of  them  I 
remember  with  peculiar  distinctness. 

He  was  at  the  battle  of  Inkerman,  when  the 
Russians  turned  out  their  troops  from  Sebas- 
topol,  to  make  an  attack  on  the  English  lines. 
O'Flacherty  was  in  the  front  rank  of  British 
troops  who  stood  behind  a  knee-high  embank- 
ment, awaiting  the  Russian  assault.  A  fog 
in  the  valley  below  them  entirely  obscured  the 
Russian  advance,  but  they  heard  the  steady 
tramp  of  Russian  regiments  crossing  the  bridge 
over  the  Tshernaya  River.  O'Flacherty  told  us 
that  he  was  so  filled  with  fear  that  either  his 
knees  had  to  knock,  or  his  teeth  had  to  chatter. 
He  was  bound  that  his  elbow-neighbors 
26 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


should  not  hear  his  teeth  chatter,  so  he 
clenched  his  jaws  and  let  his  knees  knock. 
Presently  the  front  rank  of  the  Eiissian  ad- 
vance appeared  out  of  the  mist.  Then  the 
British  order  came,  ''Up,  boys,  and  at  them.'' 
With  that  they  leaped  over  the  bank  and 
charged  with  the  bayonet.  From  that  moment, 
during  all  the  rest  of  the  fierce  fight,  O'Flach- 
erty's  fear  disappeared.  They  drove  the  Rus- 
sians down  the  hill,  across  the  river,  and  back 
into  Sebastopol,  and  he  himself  had  not  a  single 
scratch. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  Crimean  War  there 
was  no  bread  to  be  had  in  Constantinople,  ex- 
cepting leavened  bread,  and  of  course  that  was 
sour.  The  British  sick  in  the  hospitals  at 
Scutari  could  not  stomach  that  kind  of  bread. 
Dr.  Cyrus  Hamlin,  D.  D.  (later  on  President  of 
Robert  College)  was  a  typical  New  Englander 
and  a  kind  of  Jack-at-all-trades,  but  good  at  all. 
He  conceived  the  idea  of  supplying  the  British 
soldiers  with  yeast  bread.  For  this,  however, 
he  had  to  erect  a  mill  for  the  grinding  of  the 
flour,  and  establish  a  bakery  on  a  very  large 
scale.  With  Yankee  ingenuity  he  succeeded, 
to  the  great  joy  of  the  British  soldiers  both  in 
and  out  of  the  hospitals. 

Out  of  this  operation  Dr.  Hamlin  netted  a 
27 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


profit  of  tT\'enty-five  thousand  dollars,  all  of 
which  he  put  into  Armenian-Protestant 
churches  in  Turkey. 

Soldiers  then  as  now  encountered  the  terrible 
enemy  called  in  modern  parlance  ' 'cooties."  In 
one  large  storehouse  just  opposite  our  village 
of  Bebek,  there  were  thousands  of  garments 
that  had  been  discarded,  on  account  of  these 
terrible  Crimean  cooties.  Xo  one  dared  touch 
them,  and  no  one  had  any  means  of  cleansing 
them.  Again  Yankee  ingenuity  in  the  person 
of  Dr.  Hamlin  canae  to  the  front,  and  he  or- 
ganized a  gigantic  laundry  and  invented  a  new 
type  of  washing  machine.  He  then  entered 
into  a  contract  to  cleanse  all  those  awful  gar- 
ments. As  was  to  have  been  expected,  he  suc- 
ceeded and  restored  to  the  authorities  thousands 
of  garments  fit  for  wear.  Out  of  this  per- 
formance he  netted  some  thousands  of  dollars, 
and  this,  like  his  profit  from  the  bakery,  went 
into  missionary  work. 

At  the  close  of  the  Crimean  War  Dr.  Ham- 
lin went  back  to  his  work  as  missionary  of 
the  American  Board.  In  due  time,  however, 
he  became  convinced  that  the  establishment  of 
a  College  for  the  native  youth  was  an  im- 
perative necessity.  As  a  result  of  this  convic- 
tion he  slowly  got  to  work  and  in  the  Sixties 
28 


MEMOEIES  OY  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


started  Robert  College.  This  college  is  now 
one  of  the  great  institutions  in  Turkey.  It  is 
not  the  only  college,  however,  for  there  are 
colleges  in  Beirut,  Smyrna  and  Marsovan,  as 
well  as  a  girls'  college  in  Constantinople.  All 
these  are  doing  good  work. 

A  Sultan's  Follies 

The  vagaries  of  the  Turkish  mind  form  a 
part  of  my  boyhood's  memories.  The  Sultan 
had  seven  palace  physicians  each  of  whom  by 
turn  remained  at  the  palace  for  twenty-four 
hours.  Our  family  physician,  Dr.  Millingen 
(formerly  Lord  Byron's  physician),  was  one 
of  these.  In  addition  to  these  seven  medical 
men,  the  Sultan  also  had  a  dentist,  a  French- 
man, Dr.  de  la  Rue  by  name. 

The  French  have  a  proverb,  "Qui  va  a  la 
Chasse  perd  sa  Place" ;  which  being  Anglicized 
reads,  "Who  goes  on  the  chase  loses  his  place." 

One  day  the  Sultan  got  a  toothache  and  or- 
dered his  dentist  to  appear.  The  dentist  being 
off  shooting,  the  courtiers  said  that  they  could 
not  get  him.  'Not  one  of  them  seems  to  have 
known  of  another  dentist  in  town.  Full  of 
pain,  the  Sultan  roared  out,  "Get  me  a  dentist." 
It  then  occurred  to  one  of  the  courtiers  that 
he  had  seen  a  dentist's  gilded  tooth  hanging  out 
29 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


in  a  street  in  Galata.  Here  a  starving  dentist 
was  pulling  teeth  at  twentj-five  cents  apiece. 
At  once  a  courier  was  sent  up,  with  a  horse 
for  the  dentist^  to  bring  him  to  the  palace.  The 
poor  dentist,  however,  had  no  proper  suit  of 
clothes  in  which  to  appear  before  royalty.  The 
courier  switched  him  on  to  the  horse,  took  him 
to  a  ready-made  clothing  store  and  bought  him 
a  suit.  Then  down  to  the  palace  they  hasted. 
The  Sultan's  trouble  was  a  decayed  tooth.  This 
the  dentist  extracted  and  lol  his  royal  highness 
had  relief. 

Xow  mark  the  Oriental  result.  Dr.  de  la 
Rue  was  deposed  and  the  new  dentist  put  in 
his  place.  He  was  also  created  a  pasha,  or  lord 
of  the  realm.  He  was  given  a  palace  in  the  city 
and  a  palace  in  the  country,  and  a  large  salary. 
The  end  of  this  story,  however,  is  not  so  happy. 
The  newly  made  pasha  lost  his  head,  and  pro- 
curing a  revolver  he  presented  himself  before 
the  Admiral  and  threatened  to  shoot  him.  Hav- 
ing him  arrested  the  Admiral  said,  "Who  is 
this  man?''  He  was  then  told  the  story  as 
given  above.  At  once  the  Admiral  ordered  his 
carriage  and  drove  to  the  palace.  "Your 
Majesty,"  he  said,  "that  dentist  whom  you 
made  pasha  yesterday  has  just  threatened  to 
shoot  me.'  "Has  he?"  said  the  Sultan.  "Send 
30 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


him  here."  So  the  dentist  reappeared  before 
his  Majesty,  who  then  took  awav  his  two 
palaces,  his  title,  and  his  salary,  and  shoved 
him  back  into  his  previous  quarters  to  pull 
teeth  at  twenty-five  cents  apiece. 

Yerily  what  Rudyard  Kipling  says  is  still 
true,  ^^East  is  East  and  West  is  West,  and  never 
the  two  shall  meet." 

Talking  about  the  Sultan,  I  remember  that 
during  the  Paris  Exposition  of  1867,  the  then 
Sultan,  Abdul  Aziz,  planned  to  visit  Paris. 
Isow  it  was  an  accepted  Ottoman  doctrine  that 
wherever  an  Ottoman  Sultan  sets  his  foot,  he 
is  ruler  of  that  realm.  The  serious  question 
then  came  up  how  the  Sultan  could  visit  Paris 
and  still  not  claim  dominion  over  that  city. 
The  doctors  of  law  ruled,  however,  that  this 
was  an  exceptional  case.  They  said  that  no 
Sultan  had  ever  trodden  any  land  that  was  not 
his,  for  wherever  he  had  gone  he  had  conquered 
(this  is  nearly  historically  true),  but  in  this 
case  he  went  as  guest,  and  therefore  a  century- 
long  Ottoman  claim  could  rightly  be  suspended. 

In  starting  in  his  own  yacht  for  Marseilles, 
the  Sultan  left  Constantinople  in  the  evening. 
This  involved  steaming  all  night  to  reach  the 
Dardanelles.  Xow  the  Sultan  had  never  spent 
a  night  on  a  steamer.  ^Yhen  his  usual  bed- 
31 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


time  came,  he  said  to  his  attendants,  ^^Why  do 
they  not  stop  the  engines  so  that  we  can  sleep 
peacefully  To  this  the  reply  was  that  steam- 
ers on  long  journeys  traveled  by  night  as  well 
as  by  day.  "iSTothing  of  the  kind,"  said  the 
Sultan,  "anchor  at  once  and  let  me  sleep." 
They  then  dropped  anchor,  which  never  reached 
ground  but  hung  all  night  from  the  chains,  and 
the  Sultan  went  to  bed.  All  through  his  trip 
to  Marseilles  unless  they  could  anchor  in  some 
convenient  port,  this  was  the  rule,  and  the  re- 
sult was,  first  that  the  Sultan  slept  without 
noise  of  engines  (this  w^as  the  period  before 
dynamos),  and  second,  that  the  voyage  to  Mar- 
seilles was  considerably  prolonged. 

AVhen  the  Sultan  came  to  run  by  rail  from 
Marseilles  to  Paris,  he  was  astonished  at  the 
neat  clothing  of  all  the  French  farmers.  Turn- 
ing to  his  leading  pasha  he  said,  '^\\Tiy  are  not 
my  farmers  clothed  as  well  as  these  ?"  To  that 
his  prime  minister  replied,  "Your  majesty, 
they  are."  i^ow  the  Sultan  knew  that  he  was 
to  return  from  Paris  to  Constantinople  over- 
land, and  he  laid  up  his  prime  minister's  state- 
ment in  his  memory.  The  prime  minister 
knew  that  the  Sultan  would  do  this,  so  he 
bought  thousands  on  thousands  of  blouses  in 
France  and  sent  them  ahead,  obliging  the  farm- 
32 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


ers  in  Turkish  territory  to  purchase  them,  prob- 
ably at  an  advanced  price.  When  the  Sultan 
and  his  suite  reached  the  Sultan's  territory,  the 
prime  minister  triumphantly  pointed  out  the 
spick  and  span  new  garments  that  all  Turkish 
farmers  were  wearing. 

This,  like  many  other  incidents  that  I  have 
narrated,  is  truly  oriental  in  concept  and  in 
execution. 

Father's  Linguistic  Ability 

My  father  was  a  great  linguist,  being  master 
of  nineteen  languages,  living  and  dead.  Natur- 
ally we  boys  reaped  much  advantage  from  his 
linguistic  ability,  so  that  I  hardly  remember 
the  time  when  I  could  not  speak  five  languages, 
namely  English,  French,  German,  Greek  and 
Turkish. 

As  my  father  was  very  musical  and  played 
the  flute  like  a  professional,  we  used  to  have 
musical  gatherings  at  our  house  every  Friday 
night.  Here  we  discoursed  classic  music, 
chiefly  German  and  Italian.  We  had  a  regular 
string  quartette,  to  which  were  added  flute  and 
piano,  so  that  our  musicals  were  quite  an  event 
in  the  neighborhood  and  English,  American, 
German,  French,  and  Italian  friends  would 
gather  to  enjoy  Beethoven,  Mozart,  Verdi, 
33 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


Bellini  and  other  composers.  During  these 
evenings  seven  languages  were  steadily  used, 
namely  English,  French,  German,  Italian, 
Turkish,  Greek  and  Russian.  In  all  this  babel 
of  conversation,  my  father  was  the  only  one 
that  could  meet  every  one  of  those  present  in 
his  own  tongue.  Most  of  the  guests  could 
handle  four  or  five  languages.  He  was  the  only 
one  that  could  handle  seven.  In  this  connection 
I  might  say  that  my  father  was  able  to  preach 
extempore  in  seven  languages.  There  are  not 
many  men  living  to-day  who  could  duplicate 
this  ability. 

Sorely  Wounded 

In  1857,  my  father  and  mother  went  to 
America,  leaving  two  of  us  boys  in  Constanti- 
nople. After  a  year  they  returned  and  I  went 
down  to  the  steamer  to  meet  them,  l^aturally 
in  that  year  I  had  grown  considerably.  After 
my  mother  had  kissed  me,  she  put  her  hands 
on  my  shoulders  and  stood  me  back  and  ex- 
claimed, "Why,  Fred,  how  you  have  grown!" 
Standing  by  her  side  was  an  Englishman 
named  Kerr  (well  named  I  think).  He  at 
once  said,  ^'Yes,  ill  weeds  grow  apace."  That 
moment  I  hated  him,  for  I  felt  that  I  had  done 
my  duty  in  growing,  and  he  had  no  business 
34 


MEMORIES  or  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


to  say  what  he  did.  I  expect  to  meet  that  man 
in  heaven,  for  he  was  a  Christian.  At  the  same 
time,  when  I  do  meet  him,  the  first  thing  I 
shall  remember  (not  bitterly  of  course)  will  be, 
you  said  ^^111  weeds  grow  apace."  I  mention 
this  simply  as  a  specimen  of  how  children  can 
be  sorely  wounded  by  the  thoughtlessness  of 
those  of  mature  years. 

Boyish  Perplexities 

When  I  was  a  boy  we  used  to  go  across  the 
Bosporus  to  play  with  the  children  of  an  Eng- 
lish banker's  family,  whom  I  need  not  name. 
Of  course  I  noticed  the  difference  between  their 
environment  and  that  of  our  own  home.  These 
boys  had  servants,  riding  horses,  boats,  and  all 
manner  of  luxuries.  I  remember  sometimes 
thinking  in  a  vague  kind  of  way,  ^'Why  have 
these  boys  so  much  and  I  so  little?"  I  was 
never  jealous  of  them,  but  oftentimes  was  per- 
plexed at  the  difference  of  our  surroundings. 

In  1914,  when  I  was  a  guest  of  Mrs.  Ken- 
nedy on  the  yacht  "Alberta,"  we  lay  in  the  little 
harbor  of  Bebek,  and  on  the  European  shore 
I  saw  our  old  house,  and  on  the  Asiatic  the 
house  of  my  banker  friend.  Then  I  recalled 
an  early  incident  in  my  experience  as  city  mis- 
sionary in  New  York. 

35 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


I  then  received  a  letter  from  a  member  of 
the  banker's  family,  saying  that  one  of  the  boys 
with  whom  I  had  played  in  my  childhood  was 
in  l^ew  York,  and  was  in  distress.  The  ad- 
dress that  they  gave  me  was  one  on  Bleecker 
Street.  At  once  I  went  down  to  visit  him.  I 
found  him  in  a  tumbled  down  rookery,  in  the 
attic,  sick  in  bed.  In  the  course  of  the  conversa- 
tion I  said  to  him,  "How  did  you  ever  come 
here?" 

To  this  he  replied,  "I  was  sent  to  London 
to  represent  our  firm.  There  I  got  to  playing 
the  horses  and  lost  and  lost  again.  At  last  I 
had  to  forge  to  make  up  my  losses.  Then  the 
police  got  after  me.  I  fled,  and  here  I  am — 
a  pauper."  He  soon  passed  away  and  except- 
ing his  three  children,  I  was  the  only  mourner 
at  the  funeral. 

All  this  came  back  to  me  on  that  yacht  in 
1914,  and  I  must  say  that  then  and  there  I 
praised  the  Lord  for  having  heen  brought  up 
poor  instead  of  rich. 

In  my  early  teens  I  was  converted,  not 
through  any  revival  or  any  especial  effort  on  the 
part  of  anyone.  Of  course  my  early  training 
had  been  strongly  evangelical.  Full  well  do 
I  remember  when  my  conscience  began  to 
awaken.  I  knew  I  was  a  sinner.  I  knew  that 
36 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


no  man  could  save  me.  But  I  resisted  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Holy  Spirit  for  four  months 
steadily.  At  last  conscience  spoke  still  more 
loudly,  and  never  shall  I  forget  the  day  when 
I  went  into  my  little  room  without  saying  a 
word  even  to  my  mother,  and  locked  the  door. 
Then  and  there  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I 
would  not  leave  that  room  until  the  matter 
was  settled  between  my  Saviour  and  myself, 
i^ever  shall  I  forget  the  time  when,  after  long 
consideration,  I  kneeled  down  and  made  my  sur- 
render of  myself  to  Christ  as  my  Saviour  and 
my  Master.  That  little  room  is  to  me  the  dear- 
est spot  on  earth,  for  there  I  believe  I  passed 
from  death  to  life.  Every  time  that  I  have 
been  back  to  Bebek  since  then,  I  have  gone  into 
that  room  and  have  praised  the  Lord  for  the 
experience  through  which  I  passed  in  my  early 
teens. 

Suggestive  Experiences 

During  those  early  days  of  definite  Christian 
experience,  I  used  to  read  two  chapters  in  the 
Bible  every  morning  and  every  evening.  Pres- 
ently I  found  that  I  was  rushing  my  reading, 
and  not  getting  very  much  good  from  it.  I  was 
also  inclined  to  rush  my  prayers.  A  very  help- 
ful book  on  private  devotions  came  into  my 
37 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


hand  at  the  time,  and  I  remember  the  advice 
it  gave,  which  was,  that  it  was  not  the  amount 
of  Scripture  that  we  read  in  daily  devotion  that 
did  us  good,  but  the  way  in  which  ive  read; 
that  a  short  passage  read,  thought  over  and 
applied  to  one's  own  life,  was  of  more  impor- 
tance than  a  long  passage  galloped  through.  I 
also  learned  that  it  was  not  the  length  of  prayer 
that  counted,  but  the  strength  of  the  prayer. 
This  changed  my  practice  in  Bible  reading  and 
prayer,  much  to  my  spiritual  advantage. 

Many  years  after  this,  while  I  was  deeply 
engrossed  in  the  study  of  psychology,  my  faith 
in  a  personal  God  began  to  wane.  I  can  now 
see  that  it  was  because  I  was  being  puffed  up 
by  my  metaphysical  researches.  At  that  time 
I  knew  the  bitter  experience  of  kneeling  down 
and  saying,  ^^0  God,  if  there  is  a  God,  help 
me.'' 

One  night  after  uttering  this  despairing 
prayer,  I  arose  from  my  knees.  It  was  a  clear, 
frosty,  winter  night  in  IsTew  England.  In  a 
kind  of  black  despair,  I  threw  up  the  window 
and  looked  up  into  the  heavens.  Every  star 
shone  with  frosty  brilliancy.  Instantly  there 
came  to  my  soul  like  a  voice  directly  from 
heaven,  ''The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of 
God."  I  closed  the  window  in  absolute  assur- 
38 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


ance  that  the  message  given  me  was  true.  That 
was  the  end  of  all  my  skeptical  hallucinations, 
and  for  that  experience  I  praise  my  Father  in 
heaven. 

My  Newspaper 

I  must  have  been  about  twelve  or  thirteen 
years  old  when  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  should 
like  to  edit  a  small  weekly.  There  were  no 
papers  at  that  time  published  in  Constantinople 
that  I  can  remember,  and  I  thought  that  a  little 
weekly,  giving  items  of  news  about  our  mis- 
sionary circle,  might  be  interesting  to  members 
of  that  group,  and  bring  financial  remuneration 
to  the  editor.  So  I  got  to  work.  My  paper 
was  a  little  four-page  quarto  paper,  written  out 
with  my  own  hand.  It  was  called  "The  Ek- 
mekdje,"  which  is  Turkish  for  the  Bread 
Man.  The  price  was  eight  piastres  a  year, 
equal  to  thirty-two  cents.  I  kept  this  paper  up 
for  about  nine  months  and  then  it  went  the 
way  of  all  men.  I  made  a  little  money  by  it 
and  gained  much  experience.  Most  of  the 
paper  was  made  up  by  scissor  work,  but  the 
balance  consisted  of  such  scanty  news  items  of 
personal  interest  to  my  readers  as  I  could 
scrape  together.  I  still  have  copies  of  that 
editorial  venture  which  certainly  are  curiosities. 
39 


me:^ories  of  a  happy  boyhood 


All  during  my  childhood,  we  celebrated 
Christmas  with  a  Christmas  tree,  after  the 
true  German  fashion.  In  a  deep  alcove  in  our 
parlor,  intended  originally  for  the  display  of 
Icons,  father  would  annually  construct  a  beau- 
tiful landscape.  This  landscape,  together  with 
the  tree,  was  a  great  joy  to  all  the  English, 
American  and  German  children  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. They  were  all  invited  to  the  celebration. 
Before,  however,  we  were  allowed  to  go  into 
the  parlor  where  the  tree  and  the  landscape 
stood,  we  had  religious  service  and  all  children 
who  knew  any  Christmas  hymn  were  encour- 
aged to  rise  and  repeat  it.  Then  we  all  joined 
in  singing  and  in  thanksgiving  for  the  first 
Bethlehem  Christmas,  so  different  in  all  re- 
spects from  that  which  we  were  celebrating. 
Then  father  and  mother  went  into  the  parlor 
and  lighted  the  tree  and  the  landscape.  Father 
then  sounded  a  trumpet  and  with  that  we  ran, 
in  riotous  manner,  from  the  outside  room  into 
the  parlor,  and  feasted  our  eyes  on  the  tree 
and  landscape  as  well  as  on  the  pile  of  presents 
that  were  stacked  up  under  the  tree.  Great 
joy  was  ours,  and  great  joy  was  that  of  the 
adults  who  watched  their  children  having  such 
a  rapturous  time. 


40 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


Musical  Awakening 

Father  played  the  flute  like  a  professional, 
and  he  wanted  me  as  a  boy  to  learn  the  same 
instrument.  Somehow  or  other  it  never  com- 
mended itself  to  me,  to  my  father's  great  dis- 
appointment. He  seemed  to  reach  the  conclu- 
sion that  I  had  no  musical  bent  in  my  make-up. 
In  my  early  te^ns,  however,  there  came  a  noted 
European  'Cellist  to  Constantinople,  Feri 
Kletzer  by  name,  and  he  was  scheduled  to  give 
a  concert  in  Pera.  My  father  was  going  with 
my  elder  brothers,  but  proposed  to  leave  me  at 
home.  I  begged  so  hard,  however,  to  go,  that 
he  took  me  with  him.  ISTever  shall  I  forget  my 
experience  at  that  concert.  It  was  like  a  revela- 
tion to  me.  N^ever  had  I  heard  such  music 
and  never  had  I  been  so  entranced.  I  privately 
made  up  my  mind  that  that  was  the  instrument 
that  I  would  learn.  But  as  I  knew  my  father 
entertained  very  slight  hopes  of  my  musical 
talent,  I  said  nothing  to  him  about  it.  I  went 
off  and  bought  a  cheap  'Cello,  and  a  book  of 
instruction,  and  at  once  began  to  fl.ddle  away 
on  my  own  account.  My  much  surprised 
father  watched  me,  wondering  why  I  had  put 
my  few  earnings  into  this  instrument.  (It  was  an 
abominable  instrument  but  the  best  I  could  buy 
41 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


with  my  earnings.)  As  soon,  however,  as  father 
saw  that  I  really  meant  business,  he  got  me  a 
better  instrument  and  secured  the  services  of 
the  best  'Cello  teacher  in  town.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  before  long  I  was  quite  able  to  take 
my  brother  Edward's  place  as  'Cellist  in  the 
quartette,  when  Edward  went  to  college. 

Presently  I  found  that  I  could  venture  on 
the  easier  'Cello  solos,  with  piano  accompani- 
ment, and  at  last  I  was  able  even  to  tackle  com- 
positions by  Romberg.  VThal  joy  I  have  had 
out  of  classical  music  since  those  days,  no  tongue 
can  recount. 

The  Lady  Beautiful 

While  General  Williams  was  our  Ambassador 
in  Constantinople,  my  brother  'Ned  was  his 
dragoman.  The  Ambassador  had  two  charming 
daughters,  who  were  exceedingly  popular 
among  the  various  attaches  of  the  Diplomatic 
Corps.  The  older  of  these  daughters  was  a 
startlingly  beautiful  and  attractive  young  lady. 
At  one  time  she  was  not  very  well  and  the 
doctor  advised  her  not  to  dance  at  the  Diplo- 
matic balls,  as  she  had  been  doing.  As  she 
was  somewhat  headstrong,  her  father  requested 
Ned  to  see  the  various  attaches,  and  ask  them 
not  to  request  her  to  dance.  This  my  brother 
42 


MEMORIES  OP  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


did.  There  was,  however,  one  attache  who 
insisted  on  asking  her  to  dance,  much  to  her 
disadvantage. 

At  that  time  there  was  in  Constantinople  a 
Hungarian,  General  Hauch  bj  name,  a  refugee 
from  Hungary,  because  of  the  revolution  of 
1848.  He  was  a  burly,  heavily-built  man. 
When  "Ned  told  him  about  this  attache's  re- 
fusal to  be  governed  by  our  Ambassador's 
request.  General  Hauch  promptly  said, 
'^Schauffler,  let  us  go  and  visit  him.  He  lives 
up  two  flights  of  stairs.  When  we  get  to  his 
room,  you  insult  him  to  his  face.  You  are 
very  lightly  built  and  he  will  probably  attack 
you.  I  will  then  pitch  in,  and  kick  him  down 
both  flights  of  stairs,  and  teach  him  a  lesson." 
"Ned  agreed  and  together  they  went  to  the 
attache's  apartment.  Fortunately,  for  the  man 
at  whom  they  were  aiming,  he  was  not  at  home 
and  so  was  saved  an  unusually  rapid  descent  of 
two  flights  of  stairs. 

This  General  Hauch,  who  had  been  a  cavalry 
general,  used  often  to  come  to  our  house.  As 
father  was  very  well  posted  with  regard  to 
all  the  l^apoleonic  wars,  he  used  to  tell  stories 
of  various  incidents  in  that  great  emperor's 
campaigns.  One  time  at  the  table  father  was 
describing  in  his  usual  brilliant  way  the  battle 
43 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


of  Leipzig.  When  he  came  to  the  tremendous 
cavalry  charge  of  twenty  thousand  allied 
troops  against  the  French,  all  at  the  table 
stopped  eating  to  listen.  With  tremendous 
brilliancy  father  brought  that  cavalry  charge 
down  on  the  French,  and  drove  it  through  their 
lines.  General  Hauch  sat  entranced,  and  in  his 
face  were  both  amazement  and  admiration. 
W^hen  father  got  through,  all  this  cavalry  gen- 
eral said  was,  ''My  God,  you  ought  to  have  been 
a  general  of  Hussars." 

While  taking  about  our  Ambassador's 
daughter,  I  might  make  a  frank  confession. 
Though  much  my  senior,  she  completely  car- 
ried my  boyish  heart  by  storm,  and  I  fairly 
adored  her.  One  evening  at  their  house  we 
were  playing  Forfeits,  and  the  forfeit  given 
to  me  was  ''Bow  to  the  wittiest,  kneel  to  the 
prettiest,  and  kiss  the  one  you  love  best." 
Promptly  I  rose  and  bowed  to  one,  and  kneeled 
to  my  fair  divinity,  and  then  stood  still.  On 
that  she  said,  "Fred,  why  don't  you  go  ahead  ?" 
To  this  I  replied,  "I  am  afraid."  She  then 
answered,  "Whom  do  you  want  to  kiss?"  and 
my  laconic  reply  was  "You."  Imagine  my 
amazement  when  she  said,  "Well,  why  don't 
you  go  ahead  ?"   I  did. 


44 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


Nightingales 

All  around  our  village  of  Bebek,  in  the 
spring,  the  nightingales  made  night  vocal.  To- 
ward evening  one  time  I  was  rowing  on  a  little 
river,  called  by  the  Turks  ^'The  Heavenly 
Waters  of  Asia."  It  empties  into  the  Bos- 
porus just  opposite  our  village.  Suddenly  I 
heard  a  nightingale  beginning  to  sing.  On 
stopping  to  see  where  the  songster  might  be, 
I  located  it  in  the  branches  of  a  tree  overhang- 
ing the  river.  As  I  had  never  seen  a  night- 
ingale, I  backed  my  caique  gently  up  until  I 
was  beneath  the  branches  of  this  tree.  Looking 
up  I  saw  the  nightingale,  the  first  and  only 
one  I  have  ever  seen.  It  was  a  little  larger 
than  a  sparrow,  and  the  same  general  gray- 
brown.  The  nightingale  looked  at  me  for  a 
moment  and  then,  concluding  that  no  harm  was 
near,  it  started  its  song  again.  I  was  within 
six  feet  of  it,  and  sat  there  perfectly  enrap- 
tured at  the  trills  of  which  the  nightingale  is 
master,  as  no  other  bird  is. 

Taking  about  nightingales  reminds  me  of  the 
last  evening  that  we  spent  on  the  yacht  ^ ^Al- 
berta" in  Bebek  harbor  in  1914.  It  was  a 
beautiful  May  evening  and  in  May-time  the 
Bosporus  is  simply  Paradise.  The  full  moon 
45 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


had  risen,  and  on  every  hand  the  nightingales 
were  pouring  forth  their  matchless  melodies. 
All  of  our  company  on  the  ^'Alberta/'  but  espe- 
cially Dr.  John  Henry  Jowett,  were  in  a  kind 
of  ecstasy.  Suddenly  we  heard  the  melody  of 
human  voices,  and  then  we  saw  that  the  teachers 
from  Robert  College  were  approaching  our 
yacht  in  seven  boats,  lashed  together.  They 
had  come  to  serenade  us  on  the  eve  of  our  de- 
parture. For  us  to  sit  on  the  deck  of  the 
yacht  in  such  surroundings  with  such  a  sweet 
farewell,  aroused  emotions  beyond  the  possi- 
bility of  words  to  express.  After  they  had  sung 
their  last  song,  they  slowly  rowed  away,  still 
singing,  and  we  listened  breathlessly  as  their 
voices  died  out  in  the  distance.  I  do  not  think 
that  any  member  of  our  party  will  ever  forget 
that  bewitching  hour,  in  the  midst  of  such  en- 
trancing surroundings. 


Aim  in  Life 

During  all  my  boyhood  days,  father  was  ac- 
customed from  time  to  time,  when  fitting  op- 
portunity presentpd  itself,  to  talk  to  us  boys 
about  the  Bible,  about  its  history,  its  biography, 
its  doctrines.  These  were  most  enlightening 
talks  and  I  never  shall  cease  to  be  grateful  for 
46 


« 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


the  firm  foundation  that  he  laid  in  our  minds 
for  the  right  apprehension  of  Biblical  truth. 

I  always  intended  to  be  a  minister,  but  I 
do  not  remember  how  I  reached  this  conclusion 
or  when.  I  merely  took  it  for  granted  and  was 
well  satisfied  with  my  aim  in  life.  From  this 
decision  I  never  wavered  by  a  hair's  breadth. 
I  think  this  was  much  to  my  advantage.  As 
I  advanced  in  years  and  came  to  college,  I  was 
surprised  to  see  how  many  men  were  wavering 
in  their  decisions,  as  to  their  life-calling.  It 
seems  to  me  now  that  they  were  handicapped 
in  much  of  their  college  work,  because  they  had 
not  decided  along  what  lines  their  permanent 
activities  were  to  be  directed.  l^ow  they 
seemed  to  incline  in  one  direction,  and  a  few 
months  later  in  another.  This  indecision  cer- 
tainly was  no  advantage  to  them. 

Varied  Experiences 

During  my  boyhood,  after  father  began  the 
translation  of  the  Bible  into  Turkish,  we  had 
a  Mohanunedan  scribe  who  aided  him,  living 
in  our  house.  From  him  we  boys  learned  good 
Turkish.  Many  w^ere  the  evenings  we  spent 
in  his  room,  he  telling  us  sundry  and  various 
Eastern  stories,  going  as  far  back  as  the  Arabian 
Nights  literature.  I  well  remember  quite  a 
47 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


nuinber  of  these  whicli  had  an  Oriental  hmnor 
about  them  peculiarly  their  own.  One  of  them 
was  as  follows: 

A  starving  man  went  into  a  bakeshop  and 
there  smelling  the  savory  odors  that  filled  the 
place,  satisfied  his  appetite.  On  his  declaring 
that  he  was  no  longer  hungry,  the  proprietor 
of  the  bakeshop  demanded  of  him  the  price  of 
a  meal.  Of  course  a  dispute  arose  between 
the  two,  and  they  adjourned  to  the  Kadi  for 
final  settlement  of  their  difficulty.  The  Kadi, 
on  finding  that  the  starving  man  had  eaten 
nothing,  but  had  been  satisfied  with  the  smell 
of  the  viands,  gave  his  judgment  as  follows: 

"As  this  man  has  eaten  none  of  your  food, 
but  has  been  satisfied  with  its  smell,  he  will 
put  some  money  into  a  tin  pan,  and  jingle  it  in 
your  hearing,  until  you  are  satisfied  with  the 
sound.  He  will  then  take  his  money  and  go 
his  way.'' 

Like  all  eastern  countries  Turkey  in  those 
days  was  much  plagued  with  the  cholera.  As 
they  knew  nothing  about  cholera  bacillus  and 
the  contamination  of  water,  and  as  the  water 
supply  in  most  Turkish  cities  was  very  poor, 
the  ravages  of  that  disease  were  terrific. 
Apropos  of  this  the  story  is  told  that  a  man 
living  in  Smyrna  heard  that  the  cholera  was 
48 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


coming.  On  that  he  packed  up  and  cleared  out. 
On  his  journey  from  that  city  he  met  the 
cholera  and  the  following  dialogue  took  place: 

'^Where  are  you  going  V'  said  the  man. 

"I  am  going  to  Smyrna/'  the  cholera  replied. 

''How  many  are  you  going  to  kill  this  time 

"This  time  I  shall  kill  25,000.'' 

After  this  brief  conversation  they  parted. 
Later  on  hearing  that  the  cholera  had  left 
Smyrna  the  man  started  back  and  again  he  met 
with  that  fell  traveler.  Kesuming  the  dia- 
logue of  some  months  before  the  man  said : 

"You  are  an  awful  liar." 

"What  makes  you  say  that  ?" 

"You  said  when  I  met  you  going  to  Smyrna, 
'I  shall  kill  25,000,'  but  you  actually  killed 
50,000." 

"I  am  no  liar,"  was  the  reply,  "I  killed 
25,000  as  I  said,  and  fear  killed  the  other 
25,000." 

After  father  entered  the  Turkish  work,  we 
had  regular  Sunday  services  in  our  house  con- 
ducted in  Turkish.  Of  course  this  helped  us 
boys  to  a  better  use  of  the  language.  Here  we 
had  all  manner  of  Turks  coming  to  hear  the 
Gospel,  but  chiefly  men  of  the  more  intellectual 
class.  Quite  a  number  of  Dervishes  used  to 
come,  who  always  paid  respectful  attention  and 
49 


MEMORIES  or  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


never  controverted  what  was  set  forth.  Thej 
only  asked  for  further  light  along  religious 
lines. 

For  many  years  father  also  conducted  a  regu- 
lar morning  preaching  service  for  the  Germans 
who  lived  in  Bebek,  so  that  in  our  house  there 
was  regular  divine  service  for  a  long  time  in 
two  languages,  namely  German  and  Turkish. 

While  I  am  talking  about  Turkish  I  might 
mention  the  fact  that  some  few  missionaries 
sent  out  from  home  without  any  linguistic  talent 
or  training,  were  prone  to  think  that  they  could 
preach  in  Turkish  before  they  were  really  quali- 
fied to  do  so.  One  marked  instance  of  this 
presumption  I  well  remember. 

A  young  missionary,  who  shall  be  nameless, 
felt  that  he  could  preach  in  Turkish.  Father 
assured  him  that  he  was  not  sufficiently  master 
of  the  language  to  venture  upon  it  so  soon, 
but  as  he  urged  very  hard,  a  reluctant  consent 
was  given.  We  boys  of  course  were  present. 
Imagine  our  surprise  when  he  began  by  trying 
to  say  'Tet  us  pray,"  though  what  he  actually 
said  was,  ''Let  us  make  a  wall."  The  reason 
for  this  mistake  was  that  the  phrase  ''Let  us 
pray,"  in  Turkish  was  "Duva  edelim,"  while 
the  phrase  "Let  us  make  a  wall"  was  "Duvar 
edelim." 

50 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


When  he  started  in  to  pray,  he  meant  to  ask 
that  God  would  enlighten  us.  In  place  of  that 
he  actually  asked  that  God  would  make  donkeys 
of  us.  The  Turkish  petition  for  enlightenment 
would  have  been  ^'Bizi  iishliklendir."  The 
Turkish  for  "Make  donkeys  of  us,"  is  "Bizi 
esheklendir."  We  boys  were  taught  never  to 
laugh  if  anyone  made  any  mistake  in  the  use 
of  a  foreign  language,  nor  did  we  laugh  at  this 
time,  which  was  a  token  of  our  remarkable 
self-control. 

We  always  had  family  prayers  both  morning 
and  evening.  First  we  sang,  then  the  Bible  was 
read,  each  one  having  a  Bible  and  reading  two 
verses,  turn  about.  In  this  way  we  went 
through  the  Bible  excepting  of  course  the  long 
chapters  of  genealogies.  Our  knowledge  of  the 
Bible  as  a  whole  was  enormously  benefited  by 
this  reading  of  the  Word  twice  a  day  for  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five  days  in  the  year.  We 
could  get  along  with  the  proper  names  in  the 
Old  Testament,  much  better  than  some  gradu- 
ates of  theological  seminaries  in  our  country, 
whom  I  have  heard  stumble  atrociously  when 
they  came  to  Hebrew  proper  names. 


51 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


I  Turn  Nurse 

As  illustrating  what  fell  to  my  lot  some- 
times, let  me  say  that  after  my  brothers  had 
left  for  college  and  I  was  the  only  boy  at  home, 
father  had  a  serious  fall  and  had  to  go  to  bed 
for  a  number  of  days.  At  this  same  time 
mother  was  also  in  bed  having  had  an  attack 
of  pulmonary  hemorrhage.  They  were  in  dif- 
ferent bedrooms.  As  we  had  no  maid  in  the 
house,  I  would  take  what  the  cook  brought  up- 
stairs, and  prepare  two  trays,  one  for  father  and 
one  for  mother,  thus  having  the  joy  of  minister- 
ing to  them  in  their  time  of  need.  At  that  time, 
which  was  before  1862,  mother  rather  expected 
that  her  end  was  drawing  near.  Little  did  she 
think  that  she  still  had  thirty-two  years  of  life 
before  her. 

In  our  house  in  Bebek  there  was  absolutely 
no  plumbing.  A  bath  tub  was  an  unheard  of 
luxury.  The  whole  house  was  heated  with 
stoves.  At  one  time  when  father  was  sick  with 
rheumatism  the  doctor  prescribed  hot  baths. 
To  carry  out  this  prescription  we  had  to  borrow 
a  portable  bath  tub.  All  the  water  had  to  be 
carried  up  (both  hot  and  cold)  two  flights  of 
stairs  in  pails.  This  was  no  small  job  and  gave 
us  boys  considerable  exercise  in  carrying  up 
52 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


two  pails  apiece  in  sufficient  quantities  to  fill  the 
bath  tub.  So  far  as  I  know  at  that  time  no 
missionary,  and  practically  no  foreigner,  had 
stationary  bath  tubs  in  their  houses,  and  yet 
they  managed  to  keep  clean.  We  carried  out 
Florence  ^Nightingale's  teaching  that  anyone 
can  keep  clean  that  wants  to,  who  has  a  wash 
bowl,  wash  rag,  hot  water  and  plenty  of  soap. 

Visit  to  Odessa 

Before  I  came  to  college,  father  took  me  over 
to  Odessa  twice,  where  we  visited  his  two  sisters. 
One  of  them  was  a  widow  whose  husband  had 
been  Provost  of  all  the  South  Russian  Lutheran 
churches.  The  husband  of  the  other  was,  at 
the  time  of  our  visit,  occupying  the  same  official 
position.  It  was  in  Odessa  that  I  heard  father 
preach  more  like  an  inspired  man  than  ever 
before. 

In  my  uncle's  church  there  had  been  a  split, 
and  a  certain  nimiber  of  members  had  with- 
drawn and  formed  an  independent  Lutheran 
church  under  the  leadership  of  a  Pev.  Mr.  Can- 
didus,  a  rationalist.  Here  the  old  gospel  was 
certainly  not  preached,  but  some  new  fangled 
doctrines  finding  their  origin  in  Germany.  Be- 
cause father  had  so  many  friends  from  the  olden 
time  among  these  ComenDuters,  Mr.  Candidus, 
53 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


felt  obliged  to  ask  father  to  preach.  For  the 
first  time  I  saw  him  preach  in  a  black  gown. 
Utilizing  his  opportunity,  father  preached  for 
one  hour  on  the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God 
(of  course  in  German).  He  seemed  to  me  at 
that  time  like  an  inspired  man,  and  I  listened 
with  a  kind  of  amazed  fascination.  He  held 
the  congregation  spell-bound  as  he  set  forth  the 
way  of  salvation  through  faith  in  a  crucified, 
risen,  and  ascended  Savior.  At  the  close  of 
the  sermon  the  disgusted  pastor  said  to  one  of 
his  parishoners,  ^What  I  have  been  six  years 
in  building  up,  this  Schauffler  has  torn  down  in 
one  hour.'' 

During  these  two  visits  in  Odessa,  father 
traveled  through  the  German  villages  in  South 
Eussia,  preaching  in  every  village.  His  going 
and  coming  was  like  a  triumphal  procession. 
They  always  sent  four-horse  carriages  for  him 
which  to  me  as  a  boy  was  a  great  luxury.  The 
villagers  turned  out  to  meet  him  on  his  arrival 
and  turned  out  again  to  give  him  God-speed  on 
his  departure. 

From  one  of  these  villages  it  was  arranged 
that  I  should  return  to  Odessa  alone  in  the  stage 
coach.  I  knew  no  Russian  excepting  the  few 
words  that  my  father  had  taught  me.  He  had 
directed  me  how  to  inquire  in  Odessa  for  the 
64 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


Lutheran  Church,  how  to  direct  the  droshky 
driver  right  and  left,  and  how  to  tell  him  to 
stop.  On  that  trip  we  were  due  to  arrive  in 
Odessa  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  but 
the  roads  were  so  abominably  muddy  that  we 
were  endlessly  delayed.  Our  stage  had  seven 
horses,  namely  four  pole  horses  and  three  lead- 
ers. Eepeatedly  we  sank  in  the  mud  so  deep 
that  the  driver  ordered  all  passengers  out.  We 
then  all  put  our  shoulders  to  the  wheels,  and 
what  with  lashing  of  the  seven  horses  and  the 
combined  efforts  of  the  passengers,  we  got  the 
stage  coach  out  of  one  mud  hole  after  another. 
The  result  was  that  we  reached  Odessa  at 
1  A.  M.  instead  of  9  p.  m.  I  took  a  droshky  and 
ordered  him  to  drive  to  the  Lutheran  Church. 
After  we  had  driven  for  a  few  moments  I  saw 
that  I  was  headed  for  the  outskirts  of  the  city. 
In  a  droshky,  the  passenger  is  seated  just 
behind  the  driver  and  can  touch  his  shoulder. 
I  touched  the  man  on  the  shoulder  and  said 
again,  ^^To  the  Lutheran  Church."  He  shook 
his  shoulder  and  drove  on.  Then  I  remembered 
that  my  grandfather  had  been  driven  in  the 
same  way  to  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  and  then 
been  robbed,  and  the  driver  had  driven  off  at 
full  speed.  Thinking  in  my  boyish  mind  that 
this  was  probably  the  scheme  of  my  driver,  it 
55 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


seemed  to  me  that  I  must  do  something  decisive. 
I  had  with  me  a  large  American  hunting  knife, 
given  to  me  by  our  Ambassador's  son  in  Con- 
stantinople. It  had  a  terrible  blade.  This 
knife  I  then  drew  and  holding  it  up  in  the  moon 
light  repeated  again,  ''To  the  Lutheran 
Church.'^  The  driver  looked  back,  saw  the 
knife,  and  instantly  whirled  his  horses  aroimd 
and  drove  like  mad  to  my  uncle's  church.  I 
paid  him,  feeling  grateful  that  I  had  got  out  of 
the  scrape  so  easily. 

I  then  had  to  climb  over  the  wall,  as  the 
gate  to  the  enclosure  was  shut.  Here  I  felt 
myself  in  almost  greater  danger  than  while  I 
was  in  the  droshky,  because  my  uncle  kept  a 
private  watchman  and  I  feared  that  if  he  saw 
me  climbing  over  the  wall  he  might  shoot. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  I  got  through  safely,  and 
in  the  morning  told  my  story.  This  of  course 
spread  at  once  among  the  Germans  in  Odessa, 
and  as  a  seventeen-year  old  boy,  I  found  that  I 
had  suddenly  become  a  hero  in  the  eyes  of  all 
my  Odessa  friends.  I  have  often  wondered 
what  I  should  have  done  if  the  driver  had  con- 
tinued on.  Fortunately  I  was  not  pushed  to  the 
extreme  for  a  decision  yea  or  nay.  I  might 
have  gone  to  a  horrible  extreme,  for  a  boy 
seventeen  years  old  is  not  necessarily  a  Solomon. 
56 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


Both  times  when  we  left  Odessa  my  friends 
fairly  drowned  me  with  presents  of  cake  and 
candy.  I  remember  the  last  time  on  saying 
farewell  that  the  upper  berth  in  our  state- 
room was  simply  piled  full  of  boxes  of  cake 
and  candy.  On  reaching  Constantinople,  I 
found  no  difficulty  in  disposing  of  these  gifts 
among  my  playmates  and  for  a  while  I  was 
exceedingly  popular. 

Russia  in  1862  and  Later 

Just  now,  in  January,  1919,  the  Kussian 
question  is  very  much  to  the  front.  In  Kussia, 
as  I  write,  anarchy  reigns  supreme.  In  say- 
ing Russia,  I  mean  exclusively  Russia  to  the 
west  of  the  Ural  range.  What  I  say  has  no 
reference  to  Siberian  Russia.  Xow  the  Russia 
that  I  knew,  and  which  is  very  much,  so  far 
as  the  rural  population  is  concerned,  the  Russia 
of  to-day,  was  in  shocking  shape.  Drunken- 
ness was  everywhere  most  apparent.  The 
priesthood,  while  sexually  much  more  moral 
than  the  Roman  Catholic  priesthood,  at  least  in 
Spain,  Austria  or  South  America,  were  still 
most  illiterate  and  much  given  to  drink.  I 
have  seen  a  priest  of  the  Greek  church  minister- 
ing at  the  high  altar  at  a  communion  service, 
who  had  drunk  so  much  wine  that  he  had  to 
57 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


be  helped  back  to  the  vestry  hj  two  acolytes, 
as  lie  was  not  able  to  walk  straight. 

On  one  of  these  trips  back  from  Odessa  to 
Constantinople  I  sat  next  to  a  Russian  Ortho- 
dox priest  who  was  bound  for  the  Holy  Land, 
where  he  expected  to  visit  every  place  where  our 
Master  had  been.  He  was  a  particularly  holy 
man  in  his  own  estimation  and  thought  he  was 
on  a  particularly  holy  errand.  Therefore  he 
made  a  cross  over  every  article  of  food  to  which 
he  helped  himself,  and  over  every  glass  of 
vodka  which  he  drank  at  the  table.  I  am  tell- 
ing the  literal  truth  when  I  say  that  at  each 
meal,  including  breakfast,  he  became  so  drunk 
that  his  crosses  developed  into  indeterminate 
circles.  From  every  meal  he  arose  intoxicated. 
The  proverb  says,  ^'Like  priest,  like  people," 
and  this  proverb  is  largely  true. 

On  one  of  our  trips  through  South  Russia 
we  stopped  at  a  rest  house  to  get  boiling  water 
for  our  tea.  Outside  of  the  rest  house  there 
was  a  large  caravan  of  wagons,  taking  wheat 
into  Odessa.  The  farmers  were  resting.  I 
went  into  the  large  waiting  room  and  there 
saw  sitting  around  the  table  some  twenty  farm- 
ers all  with  vodka  in  front  of  them,  and  all 
drunk.  While  I  was  there  one  of  them  rose  to 
leave  the  room.  He  was  so  intoxicated  that  he 
58 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


fell  and  was  unable  to  get  up.  Every  man  at 
the  table  was  so  drunk  that  no  one  dared  to 
rise  and  help  him.  How  ever  these  men  got 
into  Odessa  with  their  wagons,  I  am  sure  I 
don't  know.  In  Odessa  itself  the  conventional 
sign  over  the  drink  shops  was  a  rude  painting 
representing  men  sitting  at  a  table  drinking, 
and  two  men  helping  a  third,  who  was 
thoroughly  intoxicated,  out  of  the  room. 

Years  after  this  on  an  Atlantic  liner,  I  made 
a  statement  at  the  table  that  the  Eussians  were 
a  drunken  lot,  and  an  American  lady,  stood  up 
in  their  defense  and  claimed  that  I  was  malign- 
ing them.  There  was  at  the  same  table  a  Count 
Siesdorpf  (I  think  that  is  the  way  the  name  is 
spelled)  who  had  been  military  attache  for  Prus- 
sia in  St.  Petersburg.  Turning  to  him  I  said. 
Count,  are  the  Russians  heavy  drinkers  ?"  To 
this  he  made  the  following  reply : 

''When  I  was  military  attache  in  St.  Peters- 
burg, I  attended  a  court  ball.  At  one  time  in 
the  evening,  the  young  officers  got  so  high  over 
their  drink,  that  they  uncorked  champagne 
bottles  and  emptied  the  contents  into  the  key- 
board of  the  piano.  One  of  them  then  sat  down 
and  played  a  rapid  movement.  Every  key 
that  he  struck  resulted  in  a  little  geyser  of 
champagne  squirting  up. 

59 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


^'In  the  course  of  the  evening  one  of  the 
court  ladies  said  that  she  was  very  hot.  On 
that  a  lieutenant  took  a  champagne  bottle  and 
o'mashed  out  the  panes  of  glass  from  one  win- 
dow. Then  other  military  men  amused  them- 
selves by  taking  the  empty  champagne  bottles 
and  firing  them  out  of  the  window  at  passers-by 
on  the  sidewalk." 

I  said  to  the  Count,  "Was  that  good  society 
To  this  he  replied,  "There  was  none  better  in 
St.  Petersburg.''    He  then  continued: 

"At  one  time  I  was  invited  to  a  military 
dinner  and  we  sat  down  to  the  table  one  hun- 
dred military  men.  We  got  up  from  the  table 
seventeen.  All  the  rest  either  had  been  dragged 
out  by  their  attendants,  or  were  on  the  floor." 

After  this  recital  I  looked  at  my  American 
lady  friend  and  I  found  that  her  spirit  had 
left  her,  and  she  had  not  a  word  to  say  about 
my  being  a  false  witness. 

Elding  and  Rowing 

At  one  time  before  I  came  to  this  country, 
our  Ambassador  had  a  son  who  was  a  play- 
mate of  mine,  and  I  used,  frequently,  to  visit 
at  their  house,  both  in  winter  in  Pera,  and  in 
summer  at  their  palace  in  Therapia.  The  Am- 
60 


MEMORIES  OE  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


bassador  had  a  splendid  white  Arab  horse,  full 
of  spunk,  most  beautiful  to  behold,  and  splendid 
to  ride.  His  son  had  a  pony.  Together  we 
used  to  go  out  riding. 

'Now  this  Arab  horse  had  a  trick  of  work- 
ing round  the  curb  bit  until  he  got  it  in  his 
teeth.    Then  he  would  bolt  and  run,  and  until 
the  bit  could  be  pulled  from  his  teeth  he  was 
entirely  ungovernable.    I  remember  one  time 
we  were  riding  along  a  beach  on  the  Bosporus. 
Without  my  taking  notice  of  it,  he  slowly  got 
the  bit  in  his  teeth  and  started.    I  was  no 
great  horseman,  but  like  many  boys  I  could 
hang  on  to  a  saddle  like  a  monkey,  which  I 
proceeded  to  do.    Presently  I  noticed  ahead  a 
rope  stretched  across  the  beach  and  fastened  to 
a  tree  on  the  land  side.   This  was  being  used  by 
a  lighter  to  warp  her  way  nearer  the  beach. 
The  horse  was  running  so  wild  that  I  thought 
he  would  not  notice  the  rope  stretched  taut 
about  three  and  a  half  feet  from  the  ground 
across  the  beach.    I  thought  my  end  had  come, 
and  that  horse  and  I  would  go  down  in  the 
wild  rush,  and  I  shut  my  eyes.    Suddenly  I 
felt  the  creature  rise  to  take  the  leap,  clear  the 
rope  and  land  safely  on  the  other  side.  Then 
I  knew  that  my  days  were  not  numbered.  In 
due  time  I  managed  to  pull  the  bit  out  from 
61 


MEMORIES  OE  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


between  his  teeth,  and  soon  had  him  down  to  a 
reasonably  civilized  gait. 

Of  course  I  learned  how  to  row  a  caique  on 
the  swift  Bosporus,  and  many  was  the  fine 
afternoon  I  spent  on  that  lovely  stream  of 
water,  enjoying  myself  to  the  height.  I  became 
quite  expert  in  managing  these  ticklish  boats, 
even  in  very  swift  currents  that  are  a  danger 
to  all  careless  boatmen,  so  that  they  presented 
to  me  no  terror  at  all. 

The  Beautiful  Bosporus 

Very  much  of  the  happiness  of  my  boyhood 
days,  of  course,  arose  from  my  environment. 
Since  those  days  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of 
the  world  and  have  had  the  happiness  of  enjoy- 
ing some  of  its  most  beautiful  scenery,  as  for 
example  that  of  the  Swiss  and  the  Italian 
Lakes  as  weU  as  the  lakes  in  the  Austrian 
Salzkammergut.  At  the  sam.e  time  I  am  free 
to  say  that  nowhere  in  the  world  does  tTiere 
exist  so  charming  a  stream  of  water  as  that  of 
the  Bosporus.  From  the  Black  Sea  to  the 
Marmora,  the  Bosporus  is  eighteen  miles  long; 
it  runs  pretty  due  Xorth  and  South.  At  the 
same  time  it  is  characterized  by  promontories 
sometimes  on  the  Asiatic,  sometimes  on  the 
European  side.  These  promontories  are  faced 
62 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


in  nearly  every  case  by  a  corresponding  bay  on 
the  opposite  shore.  The  result  is  that  as  one 
steams  from  the  Marmora  to  the  Black  Sea 
there  is  a  never  ending  change  of  view.  On 
either  sides  the  hills  rise  to  an  average  height 
of  400  feet,  though  in  one  place,  a  hill  on  the 
eastern  side  called  the  Giant's  Mountain  rises 
to  fully  one  thousand  feet.  At  the  bases  of 
these  hills  lies  a  long  line  of  villages,  and 
nearly  all  the  choicest  spots  by  the  water  side 
are  occupied  by  residents  of  the  more  well-to- 
do  classes.  On  the  European  side  there  are  to 
be  seen  the  substantial  structures  of  the  Con- 
stantinople College  for  girls  and  the  Robert 
College  for  boys.  Further  north  at  Therapia 
and  Bouyukdere  are  most  of  the  summer  palaces 
of  the  foreign  legations.  The  hill  sides  are 
beautifully  clothed  with  sycamore,  cypress  and 
other  trees,  while  ever  and  anon  the  Judas  tree 
blazes  forth  in  May  with  its  bright  pink  blos- 
soms, and  fairly  startles  one's  vision  by  the 
contrast  it  makes  with  the  solemn  cypress  trees. 
During  peace  times  steamers  of  all  nations  can 
be  seen  plying  up  and  down  the  Bosporus  on 
their  way  to  the  various  Black  Sea  ports,  or  re- 
turning from  those  ports  laden  with  cargoes 
of  grain.  A  busier  stream  of  water  than  the 
Bosporus  can  hardly  be  seen  ajiywhere.  At  the 
63 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


same  time  one  can  see  there  sailing  boats  with 
the  old  Argonantic  rig,  of  more  than  two  thou- 
sand years  ago,  so  that  East  and  West  meet  here 
again  in  startling  contrast. 

Over  these  hills  I  used  to  range  as  a  boy 
with  my  dog  Tray  and  enjoy  the  bewitching 
views  !N'orth,  South,  East  and  West.  On  one 
of  these  hills  near  our  home,  we  boys  at  one 
time  proceeded  to  dig  caves  a  la  Robinson 
Crusoe,  one  for  ourselves  and  one  for  the  girls. 
Here  on  Saturday  we  would  spend  a  large  part 
of  the  day  building  bonfires  in  which  we  roasted 
our  potatoes,  and  having  a  fijie  spread  inside  of 
the  caves,  which  we  illuminated  with  candles. 
These  caves  lasted  us  for  a  whole  season  and 
were  highly  prized  by  us  being  the  result  of 
strenuous  toil.  Alas !  one  fall  after  very  heavy 
and  long  continued  rains,  the  caves  slumped  in 
burying  all  the  simple  furniture  that  we  had 
for  our  comfort.  After  due  counsel  we  boys 
made  up  our  minds  that  to  dig  other  caves 
would  simply  result  in  a  similar  disaster.  We, 
therefore,  made  up  our  minds  that  we  would 
have  a  bush  cave.  Selecting  a  very  large  and 
thickly  growing  bush  we  cut  out  all  the  inside 
gro^vth,  leaving  only  the  outer  branches  to 
serve  as  walls  for  our  cave.  This  suited  our 
purpose  of  Saturday  picnics  very  well.  The 
64 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


last  time  I  was  in  Constantinople  in  1914  that 
same  bush  cave  was  still  there,  though  fifty 
years  had  elapsed  since  any  of  us  had  enjoyed 
ourselves  within  its  shelter. 

Of  course  the  Bosporus  is  not  always  ravish- 
ingiy  beautiful,  indeed  in  winter  it  is  cold  and 
bleak.  But  in  April  and  May,  before  the  sum- 
mer drought  starts  in,  it  is  not  an  exaggeration 
to  say  that  the  Bosporus  is  a  kind  of  Paradise. 
I  had  often  spoken  to  my  better  half  about  its 
beauties  and  could  not  help  realizing  that  she 
thought  I  was  exaggerating.  In  1894  when  she 
visited  Constantinople  for  the  first  time,  I  hired 
a  two-oared  Caique  and  we  rowed  up  from 
Stamboul  to  Hissar,  six  miles.  After  the 
beauty  of  the  scene  began  to  impress  itself  on 
her,  she  turned  to  me  and  said,  *'Why  did  you 
never  tell  me  how  beautiful  the  Bosporus  is?'' 

ISTeedless  to  say  a  large  part  of  our  joy  con- 
sisted in  bathing  in  summer  time.  We  boys 
very  easily  learned  how  to  swim,  and  during 
the  season  to  miss  our  afternoon's  swim  was 
really  to  make  that  day  count  for  nothing.  I 
nearly  came  to  a  premature  end  one  time,  owing 
to  my  inexperience,  in  an  effort  at  deep  diving. 
I  thought  that  I  would  like  to  see  how  far  down 
I  could  go,  and  I  failed  to  calculate  that  it 
would  take  some  time  to  reach  the  surface 
65 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


again.  The  result  was  that  I  held  my  down- 
ward course  until  my  breath  nearly  gave  out. 
Then  I  started  for  the  suromit  and  I  fully 
believe  that  fifteen  seconds  more  of  dire  dis- 
tress for  breath  would  have  resulted  in  my  in- 
haling lungs  full  of  water,  which  probably 
would  have  been  the  end  of  my  earthly  career. 
I  was  at  first  somewhat  timid  about  jumping 
into  the  deep  water  as  my  older  brothers  did. 
At  the  same  time  I  was  ashamed  to  wade  in 
lest  I  should  be  laughed  at.  The  result  was 
that  I  adopted  a  compromise  and  standing  on 
the  edge  of  the  pier  invited  one  of  the  boys  to 
push  me  off.  In  this  way  I  seemed  to  "save 
my  face"  as  thS  Chinese  say.  Later  on  I  was 
able  to  jump  and  dive  with  the  best  of  them. 

Of  course  rowing  in  the  caiques  was  a  con- 
stant source  of  enjoyment  and  Alfred  and  I 
learned  to  handle  those  ticklish  boats  just  as 
well  as  professional  rowers,  so  that  our  constant 
going  out  on  the  Bosporus  in  spite  of  its  swift 
currents,  caused  our  parents  no  anxiety  as  they 
knew  perfectly  well  that  we  were  quite  com- 
petent to  handle  the  boats  safely.  I  have  no 
doubt  but  that  this  exercise  contributed  largely 
toward  our  physical  well-being  and  that  this 
stood  us  in  good  stead  in  our  later  years. 

One  of  our  great  joys  was  the  annual  picnic 
66 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


on  the  4th  of  July  when  the  missionary  band  at 
Constantinople  chartered  a  steamer  and  spent 
the  day  most  happily  in  some  secluded  grove  on 
the  banks  of  the  Bosporus,  ^^ever  did  I  pray 
more  earnestly  in  those  early  days  than  I  did 
that  it  might  not  rain  on  the  Fourth  of  July 
and  when  once  in  a  while  it  did  rain  it  seemed 
to  us  boys  as  though  the  joy  of  life  had  departed. 

The  Boy  Turns  Poet 

One  summer  as  I  chanced  to  stroll 
Along  the  charming  Bosporus 
I  spied  a  castle  rising  high  o'er  the  surround- 
ing land. 
On  the  hill  side  it  stood, 

And  while  it  bathed  its  feet  in  waters  from 

the  Euxine, 
It  reared  its  castellated  head  in  pride  aloft 
And  seemed  indeed  a  kindly  guardian 
For  the  small  hamlet  nestling  in  its  bosom. 
'Tis  said  by  those  of  olden  time 
That  e'er  Mahmoud  wrested  Byzantium  from 

the  Greek, 

Having  obtained  liberty  to  raise  a  store  house 

on  that  spot, 
Took  license,  and  in  lieu 
Raised  up  those  lofty  walls  and  towers 
67 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


Which  stood  for  ages  a  terror  to  the  Greek  and 
Muscovite. 

l^ot  far  from  here  the  Moslem  hosts  were 

marshaled, 
And  in  obedience  to  their  leaders  call 
Laid  siege  to  the  doomed  city, 
The  fair  Byzantium, 

Which  with  its  convents,  palaces  and  domes, 
Its  cypress  groves  and  hippodromes. 
Remains  the  sole  survivor  of  those  mighty 
kings 

Whose  sway  extended  from  Britannia  to  the 

Scythian  plains. 
Three  massive  towers  stand,  larger  than  the 

rest. 

And  one  of  these  is  called  Oblivion, 
For  though  full  many  a  captive  Greek  entered 
its  walls 

None  ever  issued  thence  to  mingle  with  the  busy 
world. 

One  chamber  yet  remains  intact, 

And  here  the  curious  traveler  may  see  a  block 

And  rusted  axe-head 

And  walls  besmeared  with  gore. 

All  that  is  left  to  mark  the  fate  of  Athena's 

brave  sons. 
All  else  is  ruin  and  decay, 
While,  in  the  basement, 
68 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


Unmindful  of  the  tortures  which  man  inflicted 

on  his  fellow  man  in  days  gone  by 
A  miller  stores  his  corn  and  flour, 
And,  from  his  store,  he  daily  draws 
Wherewith  to  satisfy  the  multitudes  which 

throng  around  his  door. 
Hard  by  this  tower,  half  covered  up  by  mother 
earth 

To  shelter  it  from  the  blasts  which  rudely  swoop 

down  from  the  Pontus, 
A  porphyry  column  shows  its  colored  side 
And  still  retains  that  polish 
Which  served  to  adorn  some  heathen  temple, 
And  thence  was  torn  by  Tartar  bands 
With  more  than  vandal  savagery. 
A  heavy  gate  still  stands 
I^ear  where  the  tower  presents  its  stony  side 
In  sheer  defiance  of  all  the  furious  north  wind 

can  effect. 
One  of  the  folding  doors 
Thick  plated  and  well  riveted,  lies  prostrate. 
While  its  haughty  mate  with  sturdier  mien 
Upright  still  stands,  and,  keeps  a  sleepless 

watch 

Over  the  spot  where  years  ago 
The  Moslem  and  the  Greek  mingled  in  deadly 
strife. 

69 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


Over  the  gate  a  watch  house  stood 

From  which  the  guard  with  ringing  voice 

Heralded  the  near  approach  of  foe  or  friend. 

But  watch-man  and  watch-tower  have  long 
since  numbered  been  with  things  that  were. 

Supporting  the  ''Oblivion''  to  right  and  left, 

But  standing  higher  on  the  hill 

Which  rises  to  the  abode  of  Sheiks, 

Are  two  more  towers  half  hidden  by  the  cluster- 
ing ivy 

Which  shields  the  battered  walls  from  vulgar 
eyes. 

A  winding  staircase, 

Crumbling  now  and  over-grown  with  weeds. 
Leads  to  the  summit  of  the  highest  tower. 
While  in  the  wall  loop  holes  are  seen, 
Through  which  the  faithful   sped  unerring 

arrows — 
Swift  messengers  of  death — 
Summoning  full  many  a  son  of  Hellas 
To  that  dread  bar  from  whose  decision  no 

appeal  exists. 
Something  within  me  bade  me  climb  the  dizzy 

height, 

In  spite  of  crumbling  staircase,  or  of  slippery 
weeds. 

For  unto  him  who  perseveres, 
And  persevering  gains  the  summit, 
70 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


A  view  presents  itself  so  beautiful,  majestic, 
grand, 

That  he  would  fain  believe  himself  transported 

To  that  fair  paradise 

From  which  our  parents  were  expelled 

When  erst  defiled  bj  sin. 

Beneath  its  feet  nestles  a  comely  village, 

And  in  the  market  place  some  children  play  at 

hide  and  seek. 
While  ever  and  anon  their  boisterous  laughter. 
As  some  young  comrade,  long  baffling  the  hot 

pursuit  of  all  his  fellows, 
At  last  is  found. 
Comes  borne  on  wings  aloft 
And  sounds  like  distant  tinkling  of  sleigh  bells. 
The  old  men  sit  in  silence 
Around  some  story  teller 

And  list  with  wonder  to  his  anecdotes  replete 

with  deeds  of  heroes  bold, 
And  warriors  famed  in  strife  with  Athena's 

fierce  sons. 
Close  to  the  village  rolls  the  Bosporus 
In  solemn  grandeur  sweeping  on  past  palaces 

and  mosques. 
And  bearing  on  its  bosom  the  wealth  of  nations. 
The  sloping  shores  are  dotted  here  and  there 
With  hamlets,  peeping  forth 
Amidst  the  giant  sycamores, 
71 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


Which  spread  their  Titan  arms  abroad 
And  shelter  all  beneath  them  from  the  noon- 
tide sun. 

Full  five  miles  off  Byzantium  lies. 

Among  its  minarets  and  domes,  Sophia  stands 

pre-eminent. 
But  the  altar,  where  the  priests  of  God 
Their  orisons  once  paid, 
Is  now  defiled  by  Moslem  hands, 
^\llile  five  times  daily  from  its  minarets 
Goes  forth  the  cry 
Our  God  is  great  He  is  the  God 
And  Mohammed  his  faithful  prophet. 
In  the  dim  distance  rises  white  Olympus, 
Clearly  outlined  against  the  horizon. 
Which  with  its  snow-capped  peaks 
Seems  to  keep  watch  over  the  doomed  city. 
Still  waiting  for  the  time  when  Suliote  bands 
Shall  once  again  with  eager  foot 
Press  the  dear  soil  stained  by  their  father's 

blood. 

But  now  the  twilight  hour  has  passed 

And  the  pale  moon,  the  queen  of  tides, 

Rises  above  the  clouds. 

The  children  cease  their  play 

The  aged  men  betake  themselves  to  prayer 

And  silence  holds  her  pensive  sway 

Over  the  Moslem  capital. 

72 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


Turkish  Dogs 

For  centuries  Constantinople  lias  been  noted 
for  its  street  dogs.  When  I  was  a  boy  there 
were  many  thousands  of  them,  not  only  in  the 
city  itself,  but  in  every  village  along  the  Bos- 
porus. These  dogs  picked  up  their  own  food 
as  best  they  could,  with  the  result  that  often 
times  they  were  hard  pushed  to  keep  themselves 
alive  and  in  reasonable  condition.  All  visitors 
to  Constantinople  used  to  complain  that  these 
dogs  made  night  hideous,  and  their  complaint 
was  well  founded. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  these  dogs  had  a  kind  of 
self-government  and  they  portioned  out  districts 
for  themselves  in  the  city,  each  district  having 
a  definite  number  of  dogs.  The  district 
boundaries  were  well  marked.  As  a  result  in- 
dividual dogs  did  not  stray  over  the  whole  city, 
but  kept  themselves  rigidly  to  their  own  dis- 
trict. If  by  chance  a  dog  got  out  of  his  dis- 
trict in  search  of  food,  he  would  at  once  be 
attacked  by  the  dogs  of  that  district.  Starting 
for  his  own  district  the  dog  would  raise  a  cry. 
His  own  district  dogs  would  rally  at  once  on  the 
line  between  their  own  district  and  the  one  in- 
vaded by  their  friend.  If  their  friend  got  over 
the  line  safely,  they  were  satisfied,  but  if  the 
73 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


p-iu'suing  dogs  from  the  neighboring  district 
ventured  over  the  line  to  attack  their  fleeing 
enemy,  his  friends  at  once  put  up  a  fierce  fight 
in  his  defense. 

Occasionally  it  would  happen  that  a  dog  be- 
came disgusted  with  his  own  crowd  and  vol- 
untarily emigrated  into  another  district.  The 
dogs  of  that  district  would  at  once  fall  upon 
him.  Instead  of  fleeing  he  would  lie  down  and 
endure  whatever  punishment  they  administered. 
When  in  their  judgment  justice  had  been  satis- 
fied they  would  cease  their  punishment.  He 
then  became  a  member  of  that  district  and  could 
no  longer  go  back  to  his  old  quarters.  Having 
changed  his  citizenship  his  new  comrades  would 
fight  for  him  just  as  truly  as  though  he  had  been 
born  in  their  flock.  These  rules  were  rigidly 
carried  out  by  all  the  hundreds  of  dog  districts 
in  Constantinople. 

Of  course  when  I  went  out  with  my  dog  Tray 
there  was  trouble  as  I  went  through  one  district 
after  another.  In  each  district  the  dogs  would 
rally  to  attack,  though  they  never  followed  my 
dog  into  the  next  district,  leaving  my  dog  in 
that  district  to  its  local  citizens.  I  used  to  take 
with  me  a  long  Australian  stock-whip  to  defend 
my  dog  against  these  continual  assaults  and 
almost  without  exception,  between  myself  and 
74 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


himself,  we  were  able  to  get  through  without 
auY  serious  damage. 

The  voung  Turkey  party,  however,  got  rid  of 
the  dogs  in  Constantinople  so  that  when  we 
were  there  last  in  1914:  there  was  only  a  dog 
to  be  seen  here  and  there  which  made  the  streets 
seem  to  me  quite  lonesome. 

Off  For  Colle^ 

At  last  the  time  came  for  me  to  leave  my 
home  and  come  to  this  coimtry  to  enter 
Williams  College.  I  left  in  the  summer  of 
1S63,  this  being  the  first  time  that  I  had  ever 
left  home  alone.  My  first  stage  was  from  Con- 
stantinople to  Marseilles  via  the  Piraeus.  Here 
I  took  the  opportimity  of  running  up  to 
Athens.  Just  at  that  time  Athens  was  in  a 
timiult  of  revolutionary  excitement.  The 
Acropolis  was  dotted  here  and  there  with  revo- 
lutionists with  long  muskets  in  their  hands. 

As  we  had  to  drive  up  from  the  Piraeus  to 
Athens,  an  Armenian,  a  fellow  passenger,  took 
a  carriage  with  me.  On  the  way  up  he  showed 
me  a  wonderful  emerald  about  the  size  of  an 
English  walnut,  and  told  me  that  he  was  going 
to  London  to  sell  it.  Singularly  enough  this 
filled  me  with  a  kind  of  vague  apprehension 
lest  some  of  these  lawless  men  should  in  some 
75 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


way  know  that  my  companion  had  so  priceless 
a  jewel,  and  should  lie  in  wait  for  ns,  and 
together  we  should  meet  our  fate.  My  relief 
was  very  great  when  we  got  through  our  visit 
and  were  back  on  the  steamer  safe  and  sound. 
The  journey  on  to  Marseilles  was  without 
incident. 

On  boarding  the  train  at  Marseilles,  there 
was  no  one  in  the  compartment  with  me,  but 
a  young  Greek  and  his  bride.  K'ot  thinking 
at  all  that  I  understood  Greek,  they  began  to 
talk  together,  and  very  soon  I  realized  that  the 
conversation  was  such  as  they  would  not  in- 
dulge in,  if  they  knew  that  their  fellow  pas- 
senger understood  what  they  said.  It  seemed 
only  fair  that  I  should  let  them  know  that  I 
knew  Greek.  So  turning  to  the  young  man  I 
asked  him,  ^'Will  you  please  tell  me  what  time 
we  are  due  at  Lyons  ?''  With  a  look  of  great 
astonishment,  he  exclaimed,  ^'By  the  Holy 
Virgin,  do  you  talk  Greek  After  that  their 
conversation  was  headed  in  a  very  different 
direction. 

Apropos  of  this  traveling  in  those  early 
days  in  locked-in  compartments,  all  alone  with 
strangers,  I  may  add  another  experience. 
Traveling  once  in  France  all  night,  there  was 
only  one  fellow  traveler  in  my  compartment. 
76 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


There  had  been  some  unfortunate  cases  of  vio- 
lence in  locked-in  compartments  about  the  time 
in  that  country. 

I  began  studying  my  fellow  traveler,  espe- 
cially about  the  hour  when  it  was  time  to  wrap 
up  for  the  night.  I  could  make  very  little  of 
him,  and  I  had  not  said  one  word  to  him  so 
far.  About  ten  o'clock  he  opened  his  little 
valise  and  took  out  a  little  well  worn  New 
Testament,  in  which  he  read  a  passage.  As 
this  was  evidently  the  key  to  the  man's  moral 
standing,  my  fears  were  at  once  quieted  and 
wrapping  myself  up  I  slept  well.  In  the  morn- 
ing I  got  into  conversation  wdth  him  and  found 
that  he  was  an  English  general  (out  of  uni- 
form) coming  back  from  India  on  a  furlough. 
I  found  him  a  most  interesting  man  and  a 
thorough-going  Christian  as  well. 

At  Marseilles  I  boarded  my  first  railroad 
train  and  started  on  the  twenty-seven  hour  trip 
to  Paris.  Of  course  there  were  no  sleepers  in 
those  days,  and  we  sat  up  the  whole  way. 
^Now  I  had  heard  that  express  trains  some- 
times made  fifty  miles  an  hour.  'Not  knowing 
how  to  judge  the  speed  of  a  railroad  train,  it 
took  me  about  an  hour  to  make  up  my  mind 
that  we  had  reached  our  full  speed.  !N"o  one 
had  ever  told  me,  however,  that  trains  pass 
17 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


each  other  on  different  tracks,  and  the  very 
first  train  that  we  met  rushing  past  us,  raised 
every  bit  of  goose-flesh  on  my  body,  for  I  was 
sure  we  had  had  an  awful  collision. 

When  we  got  to  Paris  I  went  to  a  small 
hotel,  and  took  a  room  for  five  francs  a  day, 
up  three  flights  of  stairs.  When  the  porter 
had  set  do^vn  my  little  trunk  and  my  'cello 
case,  and  had  gone  out  and  closed  the  door,  I 
was  suddenly  overwhelmed  with  an  awful  fit 
of  homesickness.  This  was  the  first  time  I 
had  been  able  really  to  stop,  since  I  had  left 
home,  and  realize  my  loneliness.  It  seemed  to 
me  as  if  I  should  die  on  the  spot.  In  a  kind 
of  despair  I  took  out  my  'cello  and  began  to 
play  for  dear  life.  In  this  way  I  played  myself 
back  to  a  rational  frame  of  mind,  and  then 
taking  my  hat  I  started  out  to  see  the  wonders 
of  the  French  capital. 

The  only  other  time  that  I  have  been  so 
bitterly  homesick  was  the  first  Sunday  in  col- 
lege, when  in  the  afternoon  I  was  again  over- 
whelmed with  this  terrible  longing  for  my 
home  and  parents.  It  seemed  again  as  if  I 
might  die  on  the  spot,  for  the  literal  heart- 
ache was  bitter.  What  I  then  did  was  to  seize 
my  hat  and  start  down  the  road  toward  IS^orth 
Adams  on  the  jog  trot.  This  pace  I  kept  up 
78 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


for  over  a  mile  and  then  my  homesickness 
passed  away  and  I  walked  back  to  East  College 
in  peace  of  mind.  From  that  day  to  this  I  have 
never  had  another  such  attack. 

From  Paris  I  went  to  Calais,  and  there,  for 
the  sake  of  economy,  took  a  steamer  for  Lon- 
don, via  the  Thames.  In  this  way  I  saw  the 
whole  of  the  Thames  between  its  mouth  and  the 
city.  In  those  days  all  the  sewage  of  London 
poured  into  that  little  river,  and  the  odor  on  a 
hot  day  was  something  better  imagined  than 
described. 

In  London 

My  parents  had  only  given  me  the  address  of 
one  boarding  house  in  London,  where  I  was 
to  put  up  for  the  week  that  I  intended  to 
spend  there.  Taking  a  cab  at  the  steamer  dock, 
I  gave  the  driver  the  address,  and  we  started. 
The  cabby  was  one  of  the  typical  London  cab- 
bies of  that  day.  When  we  arrived  at  the 
boarding  house,  I  found  that  it  had  closed.  My 
parents  had  not  given  me  another  address  in 
London,  and  I  did  not  know  the  name  of  a 
single  hotel.  I  asked  the  cabby  if  he  could 
drive  me  in  to  a  hotel,  to  which  he  replied  that 
he  did  not  know  of  any.  Even  in  my  lack 
of  experience  I  thought  this  reply  rather  singu- 
79 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


lar.  In  a  moment  or  two  he  said,  ^^Yes,  I 
do  remember  a  hotel/'  and  I  directed  him  to 
drive  me  to  it. 

He  then  drove  me  back  to  Fleet  Street  and 
we  stopped  at  a  little  twenty-foot  front  build- 
ing by  the  name  of  "Paine's  Hotel."  The  cabby 
rang  the  bell  and  I  entered,  engaged  a  room, 
and  had  my  traps  taken  up  to  it.  On  entering 
my  room  I  noticed  at  once  that  there  was  no 
lock  on  the  door,  and  this  rather  aroused  my 
suspicions.  I  therefore  made  up  my  mind  that 
I  would  look  for  another  hotel.  On  leaving  my 
room  and  going  to  the  landing  leading  down 
stairs,  I  met  a  woman  leaning  over  the  rail- 
ing with  mighty  few  clothes  on.  She  was 
haranguing  the  cabman  somewhat  as  follows: 
^'What  did  you  bring  that  kind  of  a  fellow  here 
for  ?  We  don't  want  men  of  that  kind."  This 
at  once  confirmed  my  suspicions  that  I  was  in 
a  bad  house.  I  went  out  and  found  a  respect- 
able looking  hotel  on  the  same  street  called  the 
^'Portugal  Hotel."  Going  in  I  engaged  a  room 
and  then  returned  to  ^^Paine's  Hotel"  for  my 
goods.  Again  I  found  the  door  locked.  On 
entering  I  stood  in  the  doorway  by  way  of 
caution  and  said  to  the  porter,  ^^Bring  down 
my  baggage,  I  am  going  to  change  my  hotel." 
This  he  refused  to  do,  although  I  offered  him 
80 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


pay  for  one  day.  As  I  stood  in  the  doorway 
he  was  unable  to  shut  the  door  on  me,  and  after 
some  argument  reluctantly  brought  my  prop- 
erty down  and  I  had  it  taken  to  the  other  and 
more  respectable  hotel. 

After  this  I  started  down  Fleet  Street,  going 
as  far  as  Trafalgar  Square,  of  course  passing 
Temple  Bar  which  then  was  still  standing.  At 
Trafalgar  Square  I  saw  a  crowd  just  at  the 
comer  where  Morley's  Hotel  stands.  Curiosity 
led  me  to  push  into  the  crowd,  and  I  saw  that 
the  center  of  attraction  consisted  of  two  Eng- 
lish women,  roaring  drunk,  engaged  in  a  bitter 
fist  fight.  I  was  horror  stricken  to  see  two 
English  women  in  such  a  situation.  'No  one 
interfered,  and  no  policemen  came  to  stop  the 
disgraceful  scene.  Presently  one  of  the 
women  s^\Ting  out  her  arm  and  gave  the  other 
one  a  terrible  blow  just  over  the  jugular  vein. 
This  felled  her  like  an  ox,  and  she  crashed 
to  the  ground  unconscious.  Still  no  one  inter- 
fered. Such  a  sight  as  that  certainly  could 
not  have  been  seen  at  that  time  in  any  Mo- 
hammedan city,  and  was  a  horrible  comment 
on  the  type  of  Anglo-Saxon  civilization  that 
those  women  and  that  crowd  displayed. 


81 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


On  the  "Great  Eastern" 

After  seeing  London  I  ran  by  train  to  Liver- 
pool. I  had  seen  an  advertisement  of  the  Great 
Eastern  and  had  bought  a  ticket,  second  class, 
on  that  monster  for  Xew  York.  How  great  a 
monster  she  was  in  those  days  may  be  realized 
from  the  fact  that  there  were  very  few  steamers 
(if  any)  sailing  between  Liverpool  and  Xew 
York  of  over  five  thousand  tons  burden,  whereas 
the  Great  Eastern  measured  twenty-six  thou- 
sand tons.  She  was  a  combined  side-wheeler 
and  screw.  She  carried  about  a  thousand  pas- 
sengers, but  on  this  trip  her  cargo  was  so  small 
compared  with  her  capacity^,  that  she  rode  too 
high  out  of  the  water. 

Soon  after  leaving  Queenstown  a  notice  was 
given  out  there  would  be  a  display  by  a  pro- 
fessional bicyclist  on  the  deck.  I  had  never 
even  heard  of  a  bicycle  and  so  of  course  was 
present  to  see  the  show.  The  deck  of  the  Great 
Eastern  was  flush  from  end  to  end,  and  gave  a 
smooth  course  both  ways  of  about  twelve  hun- 
dred feet.  When  the  performer  came  out,  he 
mounted  what  we  now  call  an  ^'ordinary"  (i.e., 
a  high  wheel)  and  started  along  the  deck.  I 
was  filled  with  amazement  at  his  performance, 
82 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


and  wondered  how  under  the  sun  he  could  keep 
his  balance  on  two  wheels.  This  amazement 
was  increased  when,  as  he  crossed  the  deck  from 
one  side  to  the  other  while  the  ship  was  roll- 
ing, he  met  with  no  accident  but  swung  around 
with  a  masterful  dexterity  and  started  along  the 
length  of  the  ship  again. 

When  we  were  off  the  banks,  we  were  over- 
taken by  a  regular  August  hurricane.  I  was 
downstairs  washing  for  dinner,  and  was  con- 
scious that  the  ship  was  rolling  very  heavily. 
Upstairs  the  whole  company  were  at  the  table. 
Suddenly  the  steamer  gave  a  tremendous  lurch, 
and  I  heard  a  terrific  crash  of  all  kinds  of 
crockery  in  the  dining  room  and  screams  of  the 
frightened  passengers.  On  that  I  hastily  went 
upstairs  and  found  that  there  had  been  no  racks 
on  the  tables  and  that  that  lurch  had  cleared 
the  tables  of  every  movable  thing,  and  had 
thrown  the  passengers  left  and  right,  injuring 
some  of  them  seriously.  This  ended  the  dinner 
for  that  evening,  and  then  began  the  horrors 
of  such  a  night  as  I  have  never  passed.  Owing 
to  her  great  length  and  her  lack  of  horse  power 
(the  paddle  wheel  engines  had  only  a  thousand 
horse  power  and  the  screw  fifteen  hundred) 
when  she  got  into  the  trough  of  the  sea,  the 
Captain  could  not  get  her  out,  so  there  we  lay 
83 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


thrashing  back  and  forth,  the  waves  breaking 
over  the  steamer  with  titanic  violence,  l^o  one 
was  allowed  on  deck  as  it  was  absolutely  unsafe. 
We  thrashed  in  this  way  until  about  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  I  heard  a  boiler  burst  and 
heard  the  pumps  start,  showing  that  we  had 
sprung  a  leak. 

Of  course  there  was  no  sleep,  and  the  pas- 
sengers were  gathered  in  the  great  saloon,  hold- 
ing on  to  any  piece  of  stationary  furniture  for 
dear  life.  About  two  o'clock  the  captain  came 
down  somewhat  intoxicated  and  said,  ^^Ladies 
and  gentlemen,  there  is  no  hope.  We  are  all 
going  to  the  bottom.''  ^s'aturally  this  was  not 
calculated  to  soothe  the  anxieties  of  the  fright- 
ened passengers,  and  some  of  the  ladies  went 
into  hysterics. 

My  elbow  neighbor  at  the  table,  the  prof anest 
and  most  filthy  mouthed  man  that  I  had  ever, 
or  have  ever,  met,  was  present  when  the  captain 
made  his  announcement.  He  was  filled  with 
fear.  Promptly  he  knelt  down  by  one  of  the 
tables  and  holding  on  for  dear  life  he  said, 
"It's  time  to  pray."  With  that  he  poured  out 
a  prayer  to  Almighty  God,  which  consisted 
chiefly  of  a  solemn  promise  that  if  God  would 
get  him  out  of  this  storm  alive  and  on  shore 
again  in  safety,  he  would  never  take  his  name 
84 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


in  vain  again.  During  the  rest  of  the  voyage 
at  least  he  kept  this  promise. 

"We  were  four  days  in  from  the  hanks  owing 
to  our  being  so  crippled  by  the  storm.  The 
morning  after  the  storm  abated  for  example,  I 
saw  them  fussing  at  one  of  the  paddle  boxes, 
the  door  of  which  opening  on  to  the  deck  gave 
a  good  view  of  paddles.  I  looked  in,  and  out 
of  the  forty-four  floats  which  ought  to  have  been 
in  position,  there  were  only  eleven  left.  The 
others  had  been  smashed  to  kindling  wood.  Of 
the  eighteen  life  boats  I  saw  only  four  were 
left.  Fourteen  of  them  had  been  swept  over- 
board by  the  mountainous  waves. 

In  the  course  of  that  same  day  a  gentleman 
said  to  me,  ''Have  you  been  down  in  the  hold  V' 
To  this  I  replied,  "Xo,  I  have  nothing  in  the 
hold.  All  my  baggage  is  in  my  stateroom.^' 
''Go  down  to  the  hold,"  he  said,  "you  never  saw 
such  a  sight  in  your  life."  So  I  wended  my 
way  to  said  hold.  This  was  about  seventy  feet 
broad  and  about  a  hundred  feet  long.  There, 
in  one  wild  mass  of  wreck,  lay  the  baggage 
which,  during  the  night,  had  got  loose  and  been 
thrown  from  side  to  side.  Xo  man  had  dared 
go  down  to  straighten  things  out.  The  result 
was  that,  with  the  exception  of  sole  leather 
trunks,  there  was  not  a  piece  of  a  trunk  left  as 
85 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


large  as  mj  two  hands.  I  saw  ladies  stepping 
around  in  all  this  terrible  debris,  picking  out 
here  and  there  a  garment  which  they  recognized 
as  belonging  to  them.  Later  on  I  saw  a  lady  in 
the  first  class  saloon  with  a  pile  of  silk  dresses 
three  or  four  feet  high  which  she  had  rescued, 
which  however  were  no  longer  dresses  but  mere 
ribbons. 

We  had  on  board  two  race  horses,  badly 
stalled.  They  got  loose  in  the  night  and  one 
of  them  was  killed  on  the  spot  and  the  second 
was  so  broken  up  by  the  violence  of  his  han- 
dling that  they  had  to  shoot  him.  These  poor 
creatures  were  then  hauled  up  and  thrown 
overboard. 

When  we  left  Liverpool  the  last  news  from 
^^ew  York  was  that  the  draft  rioters  had  con- 
trol of  the  city  and  that  Xew  York  was  in 
flames.  We  were  two  weeks  coming  to  l^ew 
York,  and  as  those  were  not  days  of  wireless, 
we  were  ignorant  as  to  what  had  taken  place 
in  the  city  since  we  left  Liverpool.  We  did  not 
know  but  what  we  should  find  Isew  York  a  mass 
of  ruins.  Great  was  our  relief  therefore  when 
we  found  that  matters  had  quieted  down,  and 
that  General  B.  F.  Butler  had  his  headquarters 
at  the  old  Metropolitan  Hotel  on  Broadway. 

Owing  to  the  vast  size  of  the  Great  Eastern 
86 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


we  could  not  come  up  over  the  bar,  but  had  to 
come  up  Long  Island  Sound  and  anchor  at 
Flushing.  From  there  we  were  transported  to 
the  city  in  tugs.  Thus  began  my  first  experi- 
ence in  the  United  States. 

In  College 

While  Alf  was  in  college  with  me,  from  '63 
to  '65,  of  course  he  was  the  musical  leader  of 
the  College  Glee  Club.  After  he  left  I  assumed 
that  position,  so  that  for  six  years  all  the  musi- 
cal culture  in  the  college  was  practically  headed 
by  us  two. 

When  I  got  to  college,  I  found  things  from 
a  religious  standpoint,  in  shocking  condition. 
While  there  were  earnest  Christian  men  in  every 
class,  there  were  also  many  in  whose  case  re- 
ligion was  far  from  their  thoughts.  At  the 
table  where  I  boarded  profane  language  and 
obscene  talk  was  the  regular  order  of  the  day. 
I  was  a  clean-minded  boy  and  was  perfectly 
shocked  at  the  kind  of  stories  to  which  I  was 
obliged  to  listen.  As  I  was  only  a  Freshman, 
and  as  the  men  in  that  club  were  Juniors  or 
Seniors,  I  felt  myself  powerless  to  make  any 
protest,  for  I  was  there  at  that  eating  club 
merely  because  my  brother  Alfred,  a  Junior, 
was  a  member. 

87 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


That  winter,  however,  a  Rev.  Mr.  Kempshall 
from  Elizabeth,  IN'ew  Jersey,  came  up  to  con- 
duct a  series  of  revival  services.  He  was  truly 
God's  messenger  to  Williams  College  that 
winter.  He  preached  with  great  power,  and 
the  result  was  that  a  revival  of  religion,  pure 
and  undefiled,  started  very  soon.  Daily  meet- 
ings were  held  for  the  whole  college,  beside 
class  prayer  meetings.  The  college  was  shaken 
as  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  There  were 
many  conversions,  and  much  calling  back  of 
those  who  had  fallen  away  in  their  religious  life. 
I  had  never  passed  through  a  revival,  and  so  was 
deeply  moved.  In  my  own  class  the  Christian 
men  gathered  themselves  together,  and  appor- 
tioned the  unconverted  men  to  the  care  of  men 
who  were  Christians,  in  order  that  they  might 
be  personally  visited  in  their  rooms.  All  this 
was  to  me  a  delightfid,  though  an  entirely  new, 
form  of  activity. 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  as  a  result  of  this  re- 
vival, the  constant  profanity  and  the  filthy 
stories  were  driven  into  darkness  where  they 
belonged,  and  after  that  if  any  man  in  any 
gathering  began  to  tell  some  dirty  story,  he 
was  at  once  sat  on,  and  made  to  understand  that 
that  was  all  off  color. 

It  is  impossible  for  me  to  tell  how  I  enjoyed 
88 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


my  college  experience.  In  Constantinople, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  nearly  all  the  missionary 
boys  had  preceded  me  to  college,  I  had  for 
two  years  lived  a  kind  of  lonely  life,  with  no 
boy  associates.  To  be  transplanted  from  this 
solitary  existence  into  the  midst  of  a  town 
filled  with  young  fellows  about  my  own  age, 
was  a  wonderful  experience.  Probably  no  one 
enjoyed  this  freedom  of  association  with  others, 
like  minded,  more  than  I  did. 

In  my  college  life  I  was  exceedingly  well 
physically,  excepting  the  first  winter  when  I 
had  an  attack  of  measles.  This  put  me  into 
bed  for  forty-eight  hours.  During  my  long  life 
I  have  never,  excepting  at  that  time,  been  con- 
fined to  bed  for  twenty-four  consecutive  hours, 
a  fact  which  ought  to  cause,  and  does  cause, 
very  great  gratitude  on  my  part.  Once  more, 
in  college  I  had  a  severe  attack  of  dysentery, 
which  came  on  just  at  the  time  that  my  class 
was  going  through  its  biennial  examinations. 
This  made  it  very  hard  for  me,  but  with  the 
buoyancy  of  youth,  I  pulled  through  and  was 
enabled  to  make  a  decent  record. 

While  talking  about  examinations,  the  ability 
to  write  some  doggerel  stood  me  once  in  good 
stead.  In  our  Sophomore  year  our  class  was 
divided  in  its  mathematical  study  into  two  divi- 
89 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


sions,  according  to  the  ability  of  the  men.  I 
was  put  into  the  first  division.  ISTow  my 
mathematical  preparation  for  college  had  been 
very  weak,  though  my  linguistic  preparation 
had  been  unusually  good.  I  told  the  professor 
that  I  could  not  go  as  fast  as  the  first  division 
was  supposed  to  go,  and  asked  him  to  trans- 
fer me  to  the  second  division.  This  he  de- 
clined to  do. 

The  first  division  then  took  up  trigonometry, 
which  we  called  ^^trig"  for  short.  When  we 
came  to  our  examinations,  it  was  customary  for 
each  student  to  step  up  to  the  professor's  desk 
and  by  lot  to  draw  a  problem.  If  he  could  not 
work  it  out,  he  was  allowed  to  draw  again.  I 
drew  my  problem  and  very  soon  saw  that  to 
solve  it  was  beyond  me.  I  then  stepped  up 
and  drew  again,  and  drew  the  same  problem. 
This  I  called  to  the  professor's  attention,  but 
his  simple  reply  was,  "I  cannot  help  you."  I 
worked  the  problem  out  as  far  as  I  could  and 
then  stopped.  Underneath  the  unfinished  work 
I  inscribed  the  following: 

"This  formula  is  far  too  long. 
For  fear  I  should  do  something  wrong 
I  guess  I'll  not  attempt  the  rest, 
Which  would  be  fizzling  at  the  best. 

90 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


Of  all  the  studies  I  do  know 
In  "trig"  I  make  the  poorest  show; 
In  the  other  division  I'll  do  better, 
Or  else  I'll  take  my  walking  letter." 

I  then  folded  up  my  paper,  passed  it  in,  and 
started  for  the  door.  By  good  luck,  the  pro- 
fessor opened  my  paper  instantly,  and  seeing 
what  I  had  written,  called  me  back.  "Did  you 
write  this  ?"  "Yes,  sir.''  "Do  you  want  to  go 
in  the  second  division  ?"  "Yes,  sir."  "Go  along." 
So  my  doggerel  achieved  for  me  a  most  com- 
fortable result. 

During  all  of  my  college  term,  my  vacation 
home  was  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Merriam 
in  Springfield,  Massachusetts.  Never  can  I 
repay  the  debt  of  gratitude  that  I  owe  them  for 
their  priceless  hospitality,  and  their  unbounded 
patience  with  a  rather  headstrong  college  boy. 
The  lovely  times  I  had  in  their  home  with  their 
daughters  can  never  be  adequately  described, 
and  to  a  boy  who  had  no  home  on  this  side  of 
the  ocean,  their  home  was  a  joy  and  a  boundless 
blessing. 

Trip  Through  Europe 

In  this  connection  I  might  add  the  following 
In  the  summer  of  1868,  I  met  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Merriam  and  their  daughter  Lilly,  with  a  friend 
91 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


of  theirs  in  Paris.  They  had  just  arrived,  and 
were  to  begin  their  tour  through  Europe,  start- 
ing from  that  French  city.  They  had  thought 
that  their  daughter  Lilly's  knowledge  of  French 
would  be  enough  to  see  them  through.  When, 
however,  she  came  to  try  to  use  what  French 
she  had,  and  to  understand  the  rapid  utterance 
of  French  people,  she  found  herself  stranded. 
On  that  Mr.  Merriam  came  to  me  and  said, 
^'Fred,  we  feel  ourselves  very  ill  at  ease.  We 
shall  need  a  courier  to  get  through  Europe,  and 
that  will  cost  money,  and  he  will  probably  cheat 
us.  You  can  get  along  well  in  French,  German 
and  Italian,  l^ow  if  you  will  come  with  us 
for  four  months,  I  will  pay  all  your  expenses, 
and  it  will  be  a  great  blessing  to  us  to  have  you 
to  lean  upon  instead  of  some  money-making 
courier."  I  asked  for  twenty-four  hours  to 
think  it  over,  and  then  I  decided  to  accept  his 
splendid  offer,  for  it  would  give  me  a  chance  to 
see  Europe,  such  as  I  never  had  hoped  for. 

When  we  started,  I  found  traveling  with  that 
party  a  very  different  thing  from  traveling  alone 
on  my  o\vn  limited  resources,  when  I  had  to 
think  of  every  franc  twice  before  I  spent  it. 
Several  times  during  these  four  months  Mr. 
Merriam,  who  was  a  very  shy  man,  came  into 
my  room  and  rattled  down  twenty  ISTapoleons 
92 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


in  gold,  simply  saying,  ^'You  have  been  a  great 
help  to  us  and  you  need  some  money  for  private 
expenses."  And  almost  before  I  could  say 
^  Thank  you"  he  fled  out  of  the  room. 

Three  Great  Teachers 

During  my  educational  years  I  had  the  in- 
estimable privilege  of  being  directly  under  the 
teaching  and  influence  of  Mark  Hopkins,  at 
that  time  President  of  Williams  College.  The 
chief  thing  that  he  taught  us  was  how  rightly 
to  use  our  intellectual  tools.  In  this  line  of 
instruction  he  was  a  master  hand.  Later  on 
in  Andover  Theological  Seminary,  where  at 
that  time  there  were  nine  valedictorians,  the 
Yale  men  said  to  us  Williams  College  men, 
"The  men  we  most  fear  in  the  debating  society 
here  are  you  fellows  from  Williams.  We  can't 
match  you  in  debate,  for  we  have  never  had  the 
training  that  you  enjoyed  under  President 
Hopkins." 

In  Andover  I  had  the  privilege  of  being 
under  Professor  E.  A.  Park,  and  Professor 
Austin  Phelps,  the  first  in  Systematic  Theology 
and  the  second  in  Homiletics.  Each  of  these 
men  was  a  master  in  his  own  line. 

From  these  three  men,  then,  President  Hop- 
kins, and  Professors  Park  and  Phelps,  I  got 
93 


MEMOKIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


more  that  was  of  value  to  me  in  life,  than  from 
all  mv  other  professors  put  together.  My  life 
in  Andover  was  exceedingly  happy,  though  also 
very  busy. 

One  time  in  Andover  at  our  boarding  house, 
I  incidentally  said,  ^^I  have  half  a  mind  to 
begin  Gibbon's  ^Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Koman 
Empire.'  "  At  that  one  of  my  classmates  burst 
out  laughing  and  said,  ''Yes,  that's  a  fine  thing 
to  do  for  a  man  studying  as  hard  as  you  are.'' 
My  reply  to  him  was  that  I  would  read  the 
whole  six  volumes  in  six  weeks,  and  omit  noth- 
ing that  I  was  doing  then.  To  this  he  replied, 
''If  you  do  that  I  will  give  you  the  best  oyster 
supper  you  ever  had."  My  reply  was  "Ac- 
cepted."   I  then  got  to  work. 

Instead  of  spending  my  time  in  gossip  after 
meals,  I  went  straight  at  my  book.  If  I  went 
to  Boston,  Gibbon  went  with  me.  To  make  a 
long  story  short,  in  the  six  weeks,  I  had  com- 
pleted the  six  volumes  together  with  pencil 
annotations  on  the  whole.  Xeedless  to  say  dur- 
ing these  weeks  I  wasted  no  precious  ten 
minutes,  and  also  needless  to  say,  I  had  the 
best  oyster  supper  that  I  had  ever  enjoyed  up 
till  that  time. 

I  took  no  vacation  in  Andover  but  stayed  by 
the  stuff,  and  kept  on  with  my  studies,  while 
94 


MEMORIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


other  fellows  were  away  resting,  and  the  result 
was  that  I  was  rather  worn  out  when  I  got 
through.  I  had  intended  to  go  straight  down 
to  Xew  York  to  engage  in  City  Mission  work, 
but  the  doctor  said  that  I  ought  to  take  a  year 
in  some  quiet  country  parish  to  recover  my 
vigor. 

Just  at  that  time  the  Congregational  Church 
in  Brookfield,  Massachusetts,  was  in  need  of  a 
supply  for  a  year.  I  went  up  there  as  candi- 
date. Xow  I  had  always  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  would  be  an  extempore  preacher,  for  I 
realized  that  though  written  sermons  were  more 
polished,  extempore  sermons,  if  properly  pre- 
pared, were  more  effective.  On  that  Sunday 
in  Brookfield  where  I  appeared  as  a  candi- 
date, my  morning  sermon  was  written,  but  my 
evening  sermon  was  extempore.  I  remember 
thinking  to  myself,  ^'If  you  fail  to  get  your 
call  it  will  be  because  of  your  extempore 
effort."    I  received  the  call. 

Some  months  later  the  leading  deacon  of 
the  church  said  to  me,  ''Do  you  know  what  got 
you  your  call  to  Brookfield  I  replied,  "Xo, 
certainly  not."  He  then  responded,  ^'It  was 
that  extempore  sermon  in  the  evening,  for 
people  said  if  you  had  courage  enough  to  do  a 
thing  like  that  as  candidate,  you  were  the  kind 
95 


MEMOEIES  OF  A  HAPPY  BOYHOOD 


of  man  they  wanted."  So  my  carefully  written 
sermon  failed  to  do  what  my  extempore  sermon 
seems  to  have  accomplished.  . 

At  the  end  of  the  year,  in  the  fall  of  1872, 
I  bade  a  sad  farewell  to  my  Brookfield  congre- 
gation, whom  I  had  learned  to  love,  and  went 
down  to  iSTew  York  City  where  I  began  City 
Mission  work,  in  which  I  have  been  engaged, 
first  for  fourteen  years  as  pastor  of  Olivet 
Church,  and  second  for  thirty-two  years  as  Vice- 
President,  or  President  of  the  ^^^ew  York  City 
Mission  Society. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


96 


Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


1012  01034  3004 


